Minutes later, Adrian leaned into his phone, his voice low and sharp.
"Do it now. I want him humiliated before everyone here."
He didn't get any response. "Can you hear me?"
Of course we can hear you Adrian"
One of Damian's men.
The next thing Adrian heard was the pleading of the man he sent then a gunshot before the call was ended.
Adrian's smile faltered. His eyes darted, fury boiling beneath his calm surface.
And then—Damian walked towards him.
He moved silently, like a shadow, stepping up behind Adrian at the bar.
His hand brushed the glass of scotch the bartender had just poured, lifting it casually, his movements calm as though nothing unusual had occurred.
He leaned in close, his breath brushing Adrian's ear, his voice a cold blade.
"I will always be untouchable, cousin."
"So next time, try harder"
Adrian's spine stiffened, his jaw clenching.
Damian sipped the scotch slowly, savoring the burn before setting the glass back down.
His lips curved faintly, cruel amusement flickering at the corners of his mouth.
"You really think I wouldn't have eyes on you? You really think I didn't expect you to try something stupid?"
Damian's whisper was venom, soft but deadly. "I know you, Adrian. I've always known."
Adrian's eyes burned, his grip tightening on his glass until it nearly shattered. "This isn't over."
Damian chuckled low, almost mockingly. "It never is. That's why I win. And you?"
His gaze flicked over Adrian's trembling hand. "You'll always choke when it matters."
He straightened, calm, composed, turning back to the crowd as though nothing had been said.
The investors welcomed him again, eager for his attention, oblivious to the quiet war happening in the shadows of the ballroom.
Adrian stood frozen, humiliated, his fury swallowing him whole.
He had planned Damian's fall—yet once again, Damian had proved he was always two steps ahead.
Damian leaves the party, his secretary follows him beside.
Isabel had noticed but she didn't dare go after him.
The villa was silent when Damian returned.
He tossed his suit jacket onto the velvet couch, irritation and power from the night still simmering under his skin.
The hot shower eased the tension from his muscles, steam filling the marble bathroom, but it couldn't wash away the thought of her.
Elena.
Her laughter. The way she blushed when she teased him. The way she looked at him when she thought he wasn't paying attention.
He stepped out of the shower, a towel wrapped low around his waist, drops of water trailing down his chest.
For the first time in days, Damian Volkov admitted to himself—he missed her.
He grabbed his phone, thumb hovering over her contact. His jaw clenched. This wasn't him.
Damian Volkov didn't miss anyone.
But the thought of her soft voice, the sharp retorts, the way she trembled yet stood up to him—he couldn't resist.
With a swipe, the screen lit up. FaceTime calling Elena.
On the other side, Elena lay on the wide guest bed in Irina's mansion. She wasn't asleep—she couldn't sleep.
When her phone buzzed, her heart jumped.
She sat up quickly, staring at his name flashing on her screen. A nervous smile tugged at her lips as she accepted the call.
"Damian?"
The screen lit up with his face, his damp hair falling slightly over his forehead, shadows of the villa's dim lights behind him.
He leaned back casually, his voice low and smooth.
"You're still awake," he said, the corner of his lips tugging into that dangerous half-smirk.
"Couldn't sleep without me?"
Elena rolled her eyes, though her cheeks heated instantly. "Or maybe I just wasn't tired," she shot back, her tone sharp but soft.
He chuckled—a low, husky sound.
"Liar. You're restless because you're not in my room. My bed must be too cold without you."
Her eyes widened. "Damian—!"
He leaned closer to the camera, his gaze wicked.
"Tell me, Elena… why aren't you in my room at my grandfather's 's house?
At least my scent would still be with you."
Her lips parted, her heart racing. She swallowed before replying with her sharp tongue.
"Maybe because I don't want your scent lingered on me"
Damian's smirk only deepened. " Really. Wifey?" His voice dropped to a teasing murmur, deliberate, heavy with mischief.
"Don't call me that Damian"
"My mother adores you already… you'd make a very convincing Mrs. Volkov."
Elena's breath caught. Her lips trembled before she forced herself to laugh.
"Mrs. Volkov? You must be delirious. I think too much champagne got to your head."
His eyes darkened, amused, like a hunter circling his prey. "Say goodnight to your husband, Elena."
Her chest fluttered. Her lips curved slowly into a smile she tried to hide. "Goodnight, Damian,"
she whispered, then added with her quick tongue, "—and for your information, you're not my husband. Don't flatter yourself."
"I'm just your playtoy, remember" she said her voice low this time.
He tilted his head, his voice like velvet. "Then I'm going to make you my wife"
Before she could respond, he ended the call, leaving her staring at the dark screen,her heart pounding.
***
The next morning,
His eyes, however, were distant. Elena's laugh from their late-night call still echoed in his head.
He freshened up, then had his breakfast.
"Sir, your car is ready," his secretary announced from the doorway.
Damian nodded once, slipping into his suit jacket.
By the time he reached the marble lobby of his villa, Isabel was already waiting—her dress a deliberate shade of red, her lips painted to match.
"Good morning, my love," she purred, looping her arm through his.
He didn't flinch, didn't even glance at her.
"Don't call me that," he said coldly, striding forward with long, commanding steps.
Isabel's smile faltered, but she quickened her pace to keep up. "You haven't changed a bit Damian Volkov."
He shot her a sidelong glance, icy and detached.
"And you're still clinging. That hasn't changed either."
"Wow, It seems you still remember a lot about me" she said.
"Did you have coffee this morning?" She asked him
"If you know me so well, you know I wouldn't miss a cup of coffee Isabel"
"I know you more than anyone Damian" she said and gave him a kiss on his cheek then walked away.
Damian took an handkerchief from his secretary and cleaned his cheek immediately and got into the car.
***
Elena stood in the bright kitchen with an apron tied neatly around her waist.
Irina insisted she sit and rest and let the maids do their job, but Elena had shyly shaken her head, rolling up her sleeves.
Irina watched Elena slice fruit with careful precision.
"But I enjoy it. It reminds me of when Damian was small… he loved hovering around the kitchen, stealing pastries when he thought no one saw."
Elena giggled softly. "That doesn't sound like the Damian I know."
Irina winked. "That's because my son hides his softer side. He's been that way since he was a boy."
By the time breakfast was served, the table looked like a feast.
Grandfather walked in with his cane, the scent of warm bread and fresh herbs greeting him. He sat down, eyeing the spread before him.
My, my," he said, voice booming. "I haven't had a table like this in years."
Irina pointed proudly. "Not me. Elena made most of it."
Grandfather took a bite of the eggs and hummed in satisfaction.
"Delicious! Elena, Any man would be lucky to eat food like this every day."
"You will definitely spoil us if you continue like this" Irina said and they chuckled.
After clearing the plates and laughing with Irina and Grandfather,
Elena finally returned to her room, collapsing on the bed with her phone in hand. She dialed Tatiana, who picked up after a few rings.
"Elena, darling!" Tatiana's voice rang out, cheerful but muffled by background noise. "Guess where I am?"
Elena smiled knowingly. "With your new boyfriend?"
Tatiana gasped. "How did you know? You're getting far too sharp for me.
Yes, we're traveling. He whisked me away for the weekend. You should see the view—it's divine!"
Elena chuckled. "I'm happy for you, Tia. Really."
"Thank you, love. But tell me—you've been ignoring Damian like I told you, yes?"
Elena froze, her lips pressing together. "Of course," she lied quickly, biting down a smile.
Tatiana sighed dramatically. "Good. Keep it that way. Don't let him melt that sharp tongue of yours."
Elena rolled her eyes playfully, muttering,
"Too late for that…" though she didn't dare say it loud enough for Tatiana to hear.