Elena's pulse raced as Damian stood over her, the soft light painting sharp shadows across his face.
He said nothing—just watched her, his eyes tracing every small movement she made.
When he reached for the buttons of his shirt, she couldn't look away.
One by one, he undid them slowly, revealing the edge of the tattoo over his chest.
He tossed the shirt aside, his movements smooth and unhurried.
He guided her hand above her head, he took a silk ribbon tieing it across her wrist to the bed soft.
The fabric wasn't tight, just enough for her to feel its touch.
The moment his skin grazed hers, a rush of heat spread through her chest.
"Damian…" she whispered, unsure, trembling between fear and something else she didn't want to name.
"Breathe," he said softly. "Just breathe."
His lips met hers—slow, commanding, yet careful, as though he wanted her to understand what she did to him. Every kiss deepened the tension, every touch more deliberate than the last.
He took his hands to her mounds squeezing her ni**les and sucking it softly. "God..Damian!"
She tried to fumble her knees together when his hands went to her panties.
Damian ripped off her panties and spread her legs wide. He tilted his head placing kisses on her thigs.
Elena trembled at his touch, her hands till tied to the fabric.
His finger got into her stroking her gently then he increased it to two fingers supporting it with his tongue.
He made sure his hands touched her whole body with her still tied up. He took out his self and slid into her moving slowly before increasing his pace.
"Urghh dami..."
Minutes later. Elena's heart was still racing when Damian finally pulled away.
The room, filled with their unspoken words and heavy breaths as he untied her.
His eyes softened as he brushed his thumb against her lips — the same lips he'd just claimed with such intensity.
"Freshen up," he said quietly, his voice deep but steady now.
"Then come downstairs. I have something for you."
She wanted to ask what it was, but his tone left no room for questions.
So, she only nodded and turned toward the bathroom.
Her reflection in the mirror made her pause — her face was flushed, her heartbeat still uneven.
Whatever she felt for Damian terrified her, yet she couldn't deny the warmth that had grown inside her.
Minutes later, she walked down the stairs, her steps slow and unsure.
The house was quiet except for the faint hum of the chandelier above.
She looked around, confused — until her eyes caught sight of someone standing near the living room.
Her breath hitched, for a moment she couldn't move as she stared at the person in front of her.
***
Leonid stepped into his house. Two of his men stood inside, waiting, faces pale.
"Sir," one of them said quic "Grandfather knows. He's asking for proof. He's waiting."
Leonid's eyes flashed. For a second he smiled, a cold, angry smile that did not reach his eyes.
"Of course he knows," he muttered, more to himself than to the men. He slammed his palm on the wooden table until the cups jumped.
"That boy thinks he can stop me? He thinks he can ruin everything I worked for?"
He laughed then — short, bitter. "No. Damian can't stop me from ruling. He has to be eliminated."
At that moment the door opened and Adrian came in.
"What's happening here?" Adrian asked, scanning the room. Then his eyes locked on his father.
" Did you… did you kill Uncle Nikolai — Father?" The question was sharp, loud. It hung in the air like a blade.
Leonid's face went red at the edge. He took a step forward.
"Don't you dare question me," he snapped, voice low and dangerous. "I am still your father. Don't you forget that."
Adrian clenched his jaw, not stepping back.
"I thought we were partners," he said, his voice tight.
"Why didn't you tell me about this? You keep things from me and then expect me to follow like a loyal dog?"
Leonid put a hand on his son's shoulder, hard enough to make the muscles under his skin move.
"This was done long ago. It was for the family, Adrian. For our future." His voice had the soft, cruel calm of a man used to giving orders.
Adrian's eyes narrowed.
"If what you say is true, then Damian won't just sit quiet. He'll dig. He's already looking — he won't stop until he has proof in his hands."
Leonid's jaw set.
"Then we make sure he never gets the chance." He leaned back, thinking like a general.
"We remove him. Quietly. No mess that drags the family name through the mud.
No blame on Leonid. We make it look like an accident — or at least we make sure the blame lands somewhere safe".
Adrian looked down for a moment then raised his head, the hint of a grin forming.
Andrew is with me now.
Leonid blinked, the name landing heavy. He had heard the name before in whispers.
He felt something like approval. He placed his hand on Adrian's shoulder again, this time with pride.
"Good," he said, voice low. "I'm proud of you, my boy.
"Either way — with you and Andrew, we will wipe Damian Volkov off the map."