Again, I'm unable to sleep. Images of Marco's face so close to mine, his long lashes fluttering in tune with mine as they closed, his lips as they brushed against mine, that little spark. 

I pound my fist into my silk pillows, hearing the deflation as it makes contact. Why did he have to be so kind, so civil? Why couldn't he be another asshole, another pig just looking for a piece of meat? 

Why did my heart have to jump as I kissed his cheek? 

And another question pushed in the back of my mind, as I continually attempted to push it back again and again, because it's too ridiculous. Why did Damon get so angry? 

I was just doing my job. Maybe he realized that I was attracted to Marco. Maybe he was jealous? That last maybe almost makes me snort out loud as I stand up from my bed, trudging over to my kitchen, pouring myself a large glass of wine. 

Fiona is already in the kitchen, having just gotten back from another job. 

"How was the gala, honey?" She asks absentmindedly as she pours herself a cup of tea. She spots the wine glass in my hand and rolls her eyes. 

"That bad, huh?" 

"Fiona, I have to ask you a question." She turns to look at me, sitting down on top of one of our bar stools, fluffing the robe over her shoulders. 

"Spill, young one." 

"Okay," I sit next to her, taking a large drink from my glass. "I have this assignment to get closer to this one guy, but he's not like the usual guys, I mean, he's rich, but he's not like.."

"He's hot." She nods, understanding instantly, but unsurprised. 

"It's not just that, he's..kind." 

She nods again, and smiles at me. 

"Sweetie, sometimes they're charmers, they're beautiful, just simply perfect. But we have to remember that there's a reason why we're hired to get their dirt. Even the most perfect men have huge flaws."

"But doesn't everyone?" I ask, sighing. 

"Sure, but in this line of work, we don't let emotions get in the way of a paycheck, it's just not in our nature. Do whatever you can to keep to the script, keep to the plan, and get the check." 

I nod, but I can still feel that unsure knot in my stomach. 

"And honestly, just enjoy the attention of a handsome man, those types come and go like seasons, so snatch up a bit of good weather while you can." She winks at me and whisks away to her room.

I know she's right, but I feel like a little school girl with stupid little crush. He wasn't what I expected. Even with Damon, I was able to be professional, to be polite and keep to the task at hand. I had expect Marco to just check me out, grab my ass, try to lure me into a dark bedroom. But I couldn't have expected that he actually..wanted to speak to me. 

Groaning, I drain the wine glass and plod back to my room, preparing for the tossing and turning ahead of me. 

"Oh, you look like hell." Fiona chuckles slightly as I move into the kitchen again the next morning, wrapped in my most comfortable robe with huge bags under my eyes. 

"Hush." I mutter, heading over to the coffee pot, pouring black coffee into the largest mug we have. 

"So, are you going out again tonight?" She asks, sipping on her tea and looking at me over the newspaper. 

"I haven't heard anything yet so I guess I'll just have to wait by the phone." I shrug, chugging down the coffee and grabbing a banana from the fruit bowl on the marble island. 

"How was your night?" I mumble through a mouthful of banana. 

"Ugh, this one was such a pig. Cheated on his wife so many times she hired me to catch him the act, aka, be in the act. She just wanted to make sure she got the most money in the divorce I guess." She groans and mimics a gag sound. 

I chuckle lightly and feel slightly more awake after the caffeine has entered my system. I hear my phone ding in front of me and we both freeze. I flip it over. 

Unknown Number: Hi, Charlotte. This is Marco. I'd love to take you out tonight. I'll pick you up around seven?

"Is that your mystery man?" Fiona wiggles her eyes up and down. I roll my eyes and shove her slightly. 

Me: That sounds perfect. Do you have a dress code in mind? 

I smile slightly at my phone, biting my lip lightly. Why is my stomach fluttering like this? I must be sick. Or it's the lack of sleep. 

Marco: Dress to impress, beautiful. But I know you will in anything. 

I feel Fiona's presence behind my back and I swat at her. 

"Oh, he is a charmer, be careful with that one. I can't believe they have him knowing your real name and everything." 

"It's different all right." I whisper. 

It's nearly seven, and I can't control the flips that my stomach is doing. I've never been nervous for anything in my life, and suddenly a boy is making me blush and worry? Who the hell am I? 

The deep red dress I'm wearing reaches to the floor, with a long slit coming up to my thigh. It's the perfect dress to impress. 

I'm realizing suddenly that this sort of counts as my first date. Ever. That's probably why I'm so nervous. Yeah, that's it. 

I hear a ding on my phone and fly over to it. Pathetic. 

Marco: Come downstairs, beautiful. 

I look into the mirror one more last time, pushing my curled hair over my shoulder and nodding. 

You've got this. Just do the job. Be yourself. Kill it. 

I head down the elevator and out the door to see the most expensive car I've ever seen, and a very handsome man standing in front of it. Marco looks flawless in an all black suit, with only a silver tie to give it a pop of color. His hair is still slightly messy, giving him an effortless look. It's what he is. Effortless. 

He smiles brightly at me and I smile back. He moves towards me and gives me a slight kiss on each cheek, a custom. But I can't help inhaling the smell of that woodsy cologne. 

"You do impress, Charlotte." He whispers, and I smile up at him. 

"As do you, and your car too, I might add." I look at the car, sleek and silver, impeccably shiny. 

"She is my baby." He smiles bashfully, and moves to the passenger side, opening the door for me. I slip inside and he quickly moves to the driver's side. 

"Where to?" I ask softly. 

"Have you ever been to the opera, Charlotte?"

We arrive at the brightly lit opera hall, golden in its light and red trim over everything, even the outside. We move to the entrance where, upon seeing Marco, the ushers move aside and he smiles at them. 

He leads me inside and I can't help but gaze at the ceiling. It's a painted mural over the entire ceiling, gods and goddesses floating around in a sky blue ocean. 

"It's beautiful." I gasp slightly. I've never seen anything like it. 

"That's only the foyer, just you wait." He smiles at me and takes my hand, so large that it easily envelopes mine. I push away the warmth I feel in my chest. 

He leads me through a side door and up a flight of red velvet covered stairs into the private box seats. 

We're right next to the stage, everything so visible. I can hear the band underneath quietly tuning their instruments. 

Marco pulls out the velvet chair for me and I gracefully sit down. A waiter comes with a bottle of champagne and two glasses, and I watch as Marco slips him a hundred. 

He pops the bottle and begins to pour me a glass. 

"What shall we toast to?" I tease, taking the glass in my hand. 

"To a beautiful night." He says, his voice low and husky again. I shiver slightly and nod as we clink our glasses together, each sipping. 

The lights dim and I watch as a woman walks out onto the stage, dressed in an all black gown. And she begins to sing. The music underneath in the pit swells, the violins and their music perfectly complimenting her voice as she sings, so awe inspiringly. 

I can't pull my eyes away as goosebumps raise on my arms as the music rises and falls like an ocean's tide. 

I feel Marco's fingers softly wrap around mine, and I smile slightly, blushing. I lace my fingers through his. It doesn't feel unnatural. 

"Are you okay?" He asks me quietly, and I realize that my eyes are filling with tears. But I'm not sad, it's just the beauty of the music in front of me. 

"Oh, I'm so sorry, this is...I've never heard anything like it." I whisper back, dabbing at my eyes slightly. "I must look so ridiculous." 

His hand squeezes mine in reassurance and I smile. 

Why does he have to be so....kind?

But part of me just wants to enjoy the night, if only just tonight. To have a perfect night, more perfect than anything I've experienced before. 

Far too soon, the lights come up again and the audience stands in applause, and so do Marco and I. 

"That was..amazing." I say, gasping slightly.

"It's one of my favorite arias." He admits, running a hand through his hair. 

We step out of the opera hall, the night air hitting us. Marco leans over, carefully peeling off his jacket and draping it over my shoulders. 

"Thank you." I whisper. 

He takes my hand in his and smiles at me. 

"Care to take a walk?" He asks, his side brushing mine. 

I nod, smiling up at him. His hand doesn't leave mine as we walk down the street, entering Greenwich Village, one of my favorite neighborhoods. 

"I've always loved the Village." I admit, looking up at the stone work houses, with their ivy and tall trees draping around them. 

"Me too, actually. It's the quietest part of the city." Marco whispers, and we settle down on a part bench on one side of the street. 

"So, I told you about me last night. How about you?" I ask, looking up at him, and watching as he brushes a strand of hair out of my face. I fully resist the urge to lean into his touch. 

"Well, I'm a Bianchi, money, cars, the like. There's not much to know." He says, blushing slightly and looking down into his lap. 

I touch his arm lightly. 

"I'm sure that's not true." I whisper. "Tell me something you love to do."

He sighs, and leans back slightly.

"Okay, but it's going to sound very girly." He looks over at me, a shine in his eyes. I giggle slightly. 

"Try me." 

"I love to paint." He looks up at the sky. 

"What do you like to paint?" I ask, resting against his side, enjoying the warmth. 

He pauses, and I can hear the smile in his voice. "I like to do portraits, some landscapes." 

"I'd love to see them sometime." And I realize suddenly, that I haven't lied once tonight. It's an odd, unfamiliar, but wonderful feeling. To be honest. 

He looks down at me, and I see the same look he had last night, like he's trying to make a decision. Our eyes lock, as if daring each other to move. His strong hand wraps around my face, his jaw clenching slightly as his gaze drops down to my lips. I feel a pull, a warmth, as he urges my lips towards his, and finally, he kisses me. 

It's not my first kiss, but it might as well be. His lips caress mine softly, but firmly against mine. I feel a surge through me as I kiss him back gently, and his grip on my face grows stronger, his fingers lacing into my hair as he kisses me deeply. 

I can't hold back the slight moan in the back of my throat and I can feel his lips smile against mine. I pull away for air and he pulls me back to him, kissing me deeper this time, hungrier. I feel as if I'm drowning but in the best possible way. My hand goes to rest against his arm, against his neck, lightly brushing the stubble on his cheek. 

When we pull away finally, my cheeks feel hot and flushed, and his lips are red and plump, his breath slightly heavier than before. 

"There's no way I'm letting you go after that." He whispers huskily, his voice slightly hoarse now. 

And that's what I was most afraid he would say. But I smile through the pain in my chest. 

"Then don't." 

He looks into my eyes, brushing hair behind my ear again. 

"You have no idea how hard it is to be a gentleman right now, with you sitting here, looking at me like that. It's intoxicating." 

"Well, I do like to present a bit of a challenge." I tease. He groans, and leans back slightly. 

"Come on, let's get you home before the challenge turns out to be too much for me." He helps me to my feet and I smile at him, but the back of my mind is screaming at me to run away, to quit this assignment. 

But I know if I do that, I won't be able to see him again, and it's the selfish half of me that wins out. 

His hand is on my knee the whole ride back to my house, his jaw clenching on and off, and I can't help but want to invite him inside. But I know I can't. 

He pulls up to the curb in front of my building, shutting off the engine and sitting there for a moment. 

He looks over at me and smiles, getting out to help me out of the car, like the gentleman he is. 

As we reach the door, however, he grabs me quickly, whirling me back to face him. My face is tilted up, our noses brushing against each other, as his lips dangle dangerously in front of mine. 

It's me this time that lifts up, pressing my lips against his, and his hands that grip my waist tightly, pulling me flush against him. I can feel the hardness of his stomach, the strength in his hands as his fingers dig into my hips firmly. His hand that laces into my hair, holding me to him. 

I groan slightly, gripping his neck and he pulls away with a slight growl. 

"You're making this extremely difficult, love." He purrs, and I smile up at him. 

"What fun would it be if it were easy?" I tease, and kiss him quickly, stepping back to stand flat on the ground, backing away from him with a wicked smile. He returns it, and puts his hands in his pockets. 

"Thank you for a lovely evening, Marco." I whisper. 

"One of many, I hope." He whispers back as I disappear back into my lobby, and I quickly make my way up to my apartment. 

However, I stop dead in my tracks when I see the familiar figure of Damon sitting at my kitchen table. 

"Nice date, Angel?"

The picture up top is how I imagine Damon!