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After a few more minutes, everyone began heading to their rooms. The house quieted, leaving only the echo of soft footsteps and the ticking of a clock.
Elena was halfway up the staircase when she heard someone call her name.
"Leaving without saying goodnight?" Adrian's deep voice came from behind her.
She stopped and turned. He was leaning casually against the wall, a smirk playing on his lips, his jacket slung over one shoulder.
"You looked tense earlier," he said, taking a slow step closer. "You should relax. Damian isn't the only Volkov worth your attention."
Elena rolled her eyes, trying not to laugh at his arrogance. "Goodnight" she said flatly, a small smirk tugging at her lips as she turned away.
"Sweet dreams, princess," he teased, voice dripping with mock charm.
Elena didn't bother replying. She went up to her room, shutting the door behind her with a soft click.
She exhaled deeply, pressing a hand to her chest as she walked toward the bathroom.
The warm water against her skin helped wash away the tension from the long evening, though her mind still played the same scenes — Damian and Isabel, his cold expression, the dance.
When she stepped out, her damp hair falling over her shoulders, she froze.
Damian was sitting in the armchair by the window, one leg crossed over the other, his shirt half unbuttoned.
Her heart skipped. She hadn't even heard him come in.
He looked calm — too calm — but his eyes burned with quiet anger.
"What did Adrian and my uncle say to you?" he asked, his voice deep and steady, the tone that always made her nervous.
Elena hesitated, clutching the towel tighter around her.
"It's nothing," she whispered, turning slightly away.
He stood, his movements slow but tense, the chair creaking behind him.
"Don't test my patience, Elena." His voice grew rougher now, darker.
"I've been nice to you for a long time… maybe too nice. And I think it's starting to make you forget what you are."
Her eyes widened slightly, her chest rising and falling faster. He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming.
"I don't like being lied to," he said, his tone low but sharp. "So tell me — what did they say?"
Elena swallowed hard, her lips parting, but no words came out. Though her knees felt weak under his stare.
"They said I'm pretty," she lied quickly, climbing onto the bed and pulling the blanket over her.
Damian's jaw flexed, his voice dropping low. "How dare they even look at what's mine," he muttered under his breath.
Elena shot up, glaring at him. "I'm not yours, Damian Volkov," she snapped.
He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.
"Stay away from them, if they try talking to you, ignore them and I mean it" he said in a more serious tone.
She turned her back to him, lying down again. Within minutes, the exhaustion from the long night took over, and she fell asleep, her breathing soft and steady.
The next morning.
she stirred slightly, feeling fingers brushing gently through her hair.
Her eyes fluttered open, and there he was — Damian, sitting at the edge of the bed, his hand in her hair, eyes fixed on her like she was the only thing that mattered.
"What is it, Damian?" she mumbled, half-asleep but already annoyed.
He flinched a little at her tone, pulling his hand back.
"Why are you acting like this since last night?" he asked softly, his mouth forming a small pout — something so unexpected it made her blink.
She turned her face toward him, her lips twitching into a small smile.
"You look so cute when you pout… but I'm not falling for it," she teased.
"You should act that way with Isabel, and not your sex slave" she said quickly, smooching the air in mock imitation.
His smirk deepened In realization.
"Your acting this way beca..."
"Are you jealous ?"
Her cheeks warmed immediately. "No," she said too fast, looking away.
Damian laughed quietly, his voice low and rich. "You're terrible at lying, cupcake."
"I'm not jealous!" she repeated, throwing a pillow at him. He caught it easily, his eyes glinting with mischief.
"Fine then, if you are not jealous then you have to give me a kiss" he uttered.
She frowned. "kiss you?"
He gave a playful shrug. "Unless you're jealous …"
Elena huffed, throwing the blanket aside.
She leaned closer to him, her hands on his chest as she placed her lips on his, they kissed passionately till they heard a knock on the door.
"Madam, Grandfather says to come down for breakfast".
Hearing that, Elena ran into the bathroom and Damian followed her. They had a shower together then dressed up and headed downstairs.
The dining room fell silent when Damian and Elena walked in together.
Her hand rested lightly on his arm. Irina smiled, proud, but Leonid's eyes were sharp, cold — watching every move.
Adrian leaned back in his chair, a smirk tugging his lips.
"Well, this is new brother," he said, his voice mocking.
"You act like this with every woman, Damian. You used to treat Isabel the same way."
Elena froze, her hand slowly slipping off Damian's arm.
Leonid added with a fake chuckle, "Yes, seems our dear Damian always has a type. Pretty faces come and go, right?"
The air grew heavy. Damian looked up from his plate, his voice low and calm — too calm.
"You seem to remember a lot about me, Leonid," he said, his gaze turning cold steel.
"Maybe you should focus on your son — the one whose employees sneak into his office just to please him. Yet he still can't run a company properly."
And I'm not your brother Adrian" he added.Adrian's jaw clenched, Leonid stiffened.
Elena blinked, looking between them, the tension thick enough to choke on.
Damian leaned back, sipping his wine like nothing happened, eyes fixed on Adrian and Leonid — warning them without words.