The mansion was quiet that night. The only sound was the faint ticking of the antique clock in the hallway as he walked to his room.
An hour later, after gathering courage she didn't know she had, she walked down the hall and stopped before the heavy oak door of his bedroom.
Her hand trembled as she knocked, soft but clear.
The door opened a moment later, revealing Damian in a black silk robe, his hair slightly tousled as though he'd just showered. His gaze dropped instantly to her, surprise flickering in his dark eyes.
"Elena." His voice was low, velvet with curiosity. "What are you doing here at this hour?"
She swallowed, her cheeks warm. "I… I just wanted to say…" Her lashes lowered. "I loved the flowers."
"You came here at this hour to say just that"
Before she lost her courage, she rose on her toes and pressed her lips to his. A sweet, hesitant kiss.
Her hands curled nervously at her sides as she pulled away quickly, whispering, "Goodnight." She turned to leave, her heart hammering.
But his hand caught hers, firm and unyielding.
"Finish what you started, cupcake."
Her breath hitched as he tugged her back inside his room, shutting the door behind her. His grip slid from her wrist to her waist, pulling her close.
"Damian, I—"
Her words melted when his lips claimed hers again, deep and demanding this time. The kiss stole the air from her lungs, leaving only heat and the pounding of her pulse.
He angled his head, his mouth moving with intoxicating certainty against hers.
One hand slid up to cradle her jaw while the other pressed gently at her lower back, arching her body against his.
"Do you know," he murmured between kisses, trailing his lips along her cheek, down her neck, "how beautiful you look when you blush like this?"
Elena gasped, her fingers clutching the fabric of his robe as his mouth brushed her collarbone. His lips lingered, warm and slow, sending shivers through her skin.
"Damian…" Her voice trembled, betraying her.
He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. His eyes were burning, but softer than she'd ever seen, as though her kiss had broken through his walls. His thumb stroked across her lower lip, swollen from his kisses.
Their clothes were off, he lowered his head using his tongue to
take her, Elena pushed Damian's head deeper into her.
Do you want me inside you?"
"Ye..s please"
Then he slid into her.
When it was over, he pulled her close against his chest, his breath still ragged. He pressed a lingering kiss to her hair.
"You drive me insane, cupcake," he murmured, his voice softer than she had ever heard.
Elena lay there stunned, her heart pounding wildly. She hated him—she told herself she did. But wrapped in his arms, she couldn't deny the truth. A dangerous truth.
The morning sun spilled through the curtains, golden light painting the room where Elena stirred awake.
Her body ached deliciously, and when she turned her head, the sight made her cheeks burn—
Damian was still there beside her, one strong arm slung over her waist, his face buried in her hair as though he couldn't let her go even in sleep.
Her lips curved into the smallest of smiles before she caught herself. What am I doing? she thought, her face heating as memories of the night came rushing back. His touch. His words. The way she had given in completely.
"You're blushing," his deep voice rumbled suddenly, startling her. She hadn't realized he was awake.
She quickly turned her face away. "N–No, I'm not."
Damian smirked, brushing his thumb over her swollen lips. "You are, cupcake. And it's adorable."
Before she could argue, he sat up and stretched, the sheets sliding down his sculpted chest. She pulled the blanket tighter around herself, her blush deepening. He noticed, of course, and his grin turned wolfish.
"Come on," he said casually, swinging his legs over the bed. "We should shower together."
Her head snapped up. "W–What? No! I can shower by myself."
He arched a brow, amused "Why are you so shy Elena?"
She shook her head furiously, clutching the blanket. "Damian, I mean it—I'm not—"
He didn't let her finish. With one smooth motion, he scooped her into his arms in bridal style naked, ignoring her squeals and playful hits against his chest.
"Damian, put me down!"
"Gladly." He pushed open the bathroom door with his foot and stepped inside.
Steam rose as he turned on the shower, and when he finally set her down, she stood frozen, her cheeks aflame.
He stripped away her hesitation with a kiss, slow and sweet, before guiding her under the warm spray.
His hands were unexpectedly gentle as he took a sponge and scrubbed her back, moving in steady circles. She closed her eyes, letting out an involuntary sigh at the relaxing motion.
"You like that," he murmured against her ear, and she could hear the smug smile in his tone.
"Shut up," she muttered, but she didn't pull away.
He chuckled, rinsing the suds from her skin before reaching for her hair. "I'll wash this for you too."
His fingers lathered shampoo into her long locks, massaging her scalp until she almost melted against him.
By the time they stepped out, her legs felt like jelly—not from fear, but from how tender he had been.
He wrapped a towel around his waist and handed her one of his robes. She put it on quickly, tying it tightly, though it still smelled of him and hung too loose on her.
Gathering her courage, she ran out of the room, only to crash into Tatiana in the hallway.
Tia froze, her eyes widening, before a mischievous grin spread across her face. "Oh. My. God."
Elena tugged the robe tighter. "It's not—It's not what you think!"
"Oh really?" Tia smirked, circling her like a cat that had cornered a mouse. "My sweet friend, wearing my cousin's robe, hair damp, cheeks glowing. Nope, nothing happened at all."
She winked. "I hope you two didn't keep the whole house awake."
Elena's face turned crimson. "T–Tatiana!" she squeaked, rushing past her, but Tia's laughter followed her down the hall.
Later that afternoon, Damian found Tatiana lounging in the living room, scrolling her phone.
He paused, his usual coldness returning, though his eyes softened slightly at the sight of his cousin,his hands tucked into his trouser pockets, .
"You look like you're about to drop a bomb," she said lightly, turning to face him.
Damian's voice was calm, clipped, but his eyes carried weight. "Mother wants to meet Elena."
Tatiana's brush stilled in her hand. Her eyes widened, then narrowed into curiosity and mischief. "What? How—how does she even know Elena stays with you?"
He exhaled, sharp and dismissive, as though her question was ridiculous. "She's my mother. She's not a fool.
Tatiana blinked, stunned for only a moment before a slow grin spread across her lips.
"Oh, this is going to be good." She stood, circling him with a look that was far too pleased. "My sweet, terrifying cousin, caught. And by your mother, no less."
Damian's jaw tightened, though a muscle flickered at the corner of his mouth. He said nothing more, only leveled her with a warning look before striding out.
Elena was by the doorway when she sighted him, Her lips still tingled at the memory, her cheeks warming despite herself.
For once, she had almost allowed herself to believe that Damian Volkov could be sweet.
He didn't even greet her—just stopped in front of her, hands in his pockets, his dark eyes cool and unreadable.
"You're meeting my mother," he said flatly.
Elena blinked, the words hitting her like a slap. "What?"
"You'll meet her," he repeated, his voice cold as steel. "Tomorrow."
Her chest tightened. "But… why?" she whispered, already nervous.
He leaned down slightly, so his shadow fell across her face, his tone sharper now. "Because I said so."
The words cut deep. No explanation, no softness, no trace of the man who was so sweet to her the night before. Just the ruthless, unbending Damian Volkov.
Before she could gather herself to argue, he straightened, turned on his heel, and left without a second glance.