The next day;
Alex was just pouring himself a glass of water when he heard a sharp knock at the door.
It was too early for visitors. He walked to the door, running a hand through his messy hair, and when he opened it—he froze.
"Isabel?" he said in surprise.
"What are you doing here this early?"
She didn't answer right away. She brushed past him instead, her heels clicking against the marble floor.
The soft scent of her perfume filled the air as she dropped her bag onto the couch and sat down, crossing her legs elegantly.
He shut the door behind her, watching with a frown.
"You didn't answer my question," he said. "What do you want?"
Isabel looked up at him, her face calm but her eyes sharp.
"It's about Elena."
The smirk faded. "What about her?"
"I need you to bring her to your house," Isabel said coolly, her voice smooth like she had practiced the words.
"Make her feel comfortable.
Give her something to drink—get her tipsy if you have to. And then… do what you do best on best."
Alex stared at her, stunned for a moment.
"You're serious?" he asked, his tone flat.
"Dead serious." She leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice.
"Once you've got her where I want her, I'll make sure Damian finds out.
You know how he is—he'll come running.
Furious. He'll destroy everything between them himself."
Alex gave a quiet, humorless laugh.
"You want me to set her up? Just so you can get to Damian?"
Isabel's gaze didn't waver.
"You'll get something out of it too. You've always had eyes for her,"
She tilted her head, her lips curling into a knowing smirk. "This is your chance."
He stared at her for a long moment, trying to read her face. She looked calm—too calm.
Every word she spoke carried venom hidden behind her beauty.
"Why are you doing this?" Apex finally asked.
"What did Elena ever do to you?"
"Nothing," Isabel said coldly, standing up and picking her bag again.
"But she took something that was mine. Damian."
She looked back at him before leaving, her eyes dark and full of quiet rage.
"Don't think too long about it, Alex. Just do what I said."
And then she walked out, her perfume lingering in the air like poison, leaving Apex standing there—confused, tempted, and uncertain
***
Damian entered the mansion quietly, his black shirt still slightly open, his expression unreadable.
He saw Elena sitting at the dining table, eating slowly, her eyes fixed on her plate. She didn't even lift her head when he came in.
He paused for a moment, watching her, expecting her usual soft
"welcome back." But nothing came. She didn't even glance his way.
He walked closer and sat down in his chair across from her, leaning back.
"Cupcake," he called softly.
No answer.
He frowned slightly, not used to being ignored.
"Elena."
She stood up instead, picked up her plate, and without a word turned around and walked upstairs.
Damian blinked, a small smirk curling at his lips.
"So that's how you want to play it," he muttered to himself.
He rose from his chair and followed her up the stairs, his slow, steady steps echoing through the hall.
Just as he reached her door—bang!—she shut it right in his face.
He stood there, one hand still in his pocket, the smirk on his lips growing wider.
He could have easily broken the door open if he wanted to.
But he didn't. Instead, he leaned on the wall beside the door for a moment, then walked away without a word.
Hours later, the house was quiet.
The maids whispered downstairs, surprised that Damian hadn't stormed her room like he usually did when angry.
But then—he came back.
"Knock," he said calmly, standing behind one of the maids.
The maid looked nervous. "Sir, should I tell her it's you?"
He smiled faintly. "No. Tell her it's you."
The maid nodded quickly and went to the door, knocking softly.
"Miss Elena, it's me," she said.
Elena sighed from inside, got up, and opened the door—only to freeze.
Damian was standing right there.
Before she could shut the door again, his hand caught it and he gently pushed it open. He stepped inside slowly, his eyes locked on hers.
"Cupcake," he said in a low voice, "I have something to show you."
She crossed her arms, glaring a little.
He tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into that slow, teasing smirk of his.
Elena hesitated, searching his eyes for any hint of his usual coldness—but his tone wasn't harsh.
It was quiet. Almost soft.
Finally, she sighed and said, "Fine. Show me."
He gestured for her to follow. She walked behind him, her heartbeat strangely fast, wondering what he was up to this time.
When they reached his room, she stopped at the doorway, blinking in surprise.
"You… want to show me something in your room?" she said slowly, still confused.
Damian turned slightly, giving her that calm, unreadable look that always made her nervous. "Yes," he said again, his voice dropping a little lower.
Elena stepped into Damian's room, her breath catching the moment the door shut behind her.
The curtains were drawn, letting in only a warm golden light that brushed against the dark furniture.
"Sit," Damian said quietly. His voice wasn't loud, but it left no room for argument.
She hesitated for a second before obeying, sitting down at the edge of the bed.
Her fingers twisted nervously in her lap as he approached, his steps calm, controlled.
He stood in front of her, one hand lifting her chin so her eyes met his.
"Do you trust me?" he asked in a tone that was both soft and commanding.
Elena swallowed. "I… I don't know," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.
He leaned closer, his lips brushing against her ear as he said, "You should."
Her heart pounded. Every movement he made felt deliberate—slow, testing her reaction.
He trailed his fingers down her arms, his touch light enough to make her shiver. She could barely breathe as he guided her to lie down on the bed.
"Damian," she said quietly, unsure what he was doing.
"Trust me," he murmured again, his voice deeper this time. "I won't hurt you."