Damien guided Elena to her red convertible, his concern evident as he glanced at her pale face.
"You sure you're okay?" he asked, still insistent on driving her home.
She had seemed shaken, and though they had barely exchanged a dozen words, he couldn't just leave her like this.
"Let me take you home," he insisted, his voice soft yet firm.
Elena tilted her head, giving him a sweet but practiced smile.
"What about your car?" she asked, pretending to be considerate, though deep down she couldn't care less.
"Don't worry, I'll send someone to get it later," he assured her as he opened the passenger door.
His hand hovered protectively over her as she slipped inside.
He even reached in, gently fastening her seatbelt, his touch careful, almost reverent.
Elena handed Damien the keys as he rounded the car to the driver's side.
The engine hummed to life, and soon they were on the road.
The silence between them was thick, almost suffocating.
Damien kept his eyes glued to the road, his hands gripping the steering wheel with purpose, clearly uncomfortable with the silence.
Elena, on the other hand, was entirely at ease, her gaze shifting between him and the passing scenery.
She was waiting, watching, counting down the seconds until the next part of her plan unfolded.
The traffic lights ahead blinked yellow before turning red.
Damien slowed to a stop, his attention still fixed on the road.
Just then, a sharp bang reverberated through the car as a car slammed into the back of Elena's convertible.
The force jolted the vehicle forward, and as if on cue, Elena unbuckled her seatbelt, leaning over as though looking for something.
She threw herself forward, her head connecting with the dashboard in a calculated move.
Her forehead split open on impact, a thin stream of blood trickling down her face.
The pain was real, but it was nothing compared to the satisfaction of seeing Damien's horrified reaction when he realized she was hurt.
"I'm so sorry," Damien muttered, unbuckling his seatbelt and rushing to cradle her head.
His touch was gentle as he pressed his handkerchief to her wound. "I should've been paying more attention." He leaned in closer, blowing softly on the cut, as if that would somehow ease the pain.
For the briefest moment, Elena felt something strange—a faint tug in her chest at the sight of Damien's concern.
But she quickly brushed it off.
"It's not your fault," she said softly, her eyes meeting his for a second too long. "It was the driver behind us."
Damien's expression shifted instantly. His concern for her was replaced with a surge of anger.
"Stay here," he said, his voice tight with fury. He threw open the door and stormed out of the car, heading straight for the driver of the vehicle that had hit them.
Elena sighed, leaning back in her seat and watching through the rearview mirror as Damien confronted the other driver.
"Do you have any idea what you've done?" Damien's voice boomed, his frustration boiling over.
The driver of the other car raised his hands in a defensive gesture. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? It was an accident!"
"An accident?" Damien repeated, stepping closer, his fist twitching at his side as though he was considering throwing a punch. "You're lucky no one was seriously hurt."
The other man looked exasperated. "I said I'm sorry, man! What more do you want me to do?"
Before Damien could react, Elena stepped out of the car, clutching her head in a dramatic display of pain.
This wasn't part of the plan. Damien losing his cool wouldn't do her any favors right now. She had to intervene.
"please," she said in a low, shaky voice. "Let's just go. I don't feel well."
Damien turned immediately, his anger dissolving the moment he saw her. His eyes softened, the tension in his shoulders melting away as he quickly crossed the distance between them.
"Alright," he muttered, stepping forward to guide her back to the car. "Let's get you home."
As they drove off, the silence returned, but this time it was tinged with a strange, unspoken bond between them.
Damien drove with an anxious energy, his eyes flicking to her every few seconds as though checking to make sure she hadn't suddenly passed out.
Elena, meanwhile, stared out the window, her mind on the next steps.
They arrived at Elena's condo a short while later. Damien parked the car and quickly moved around to help her out.
She leaned on him, just enough to let him feel her dependence on him, to make him feel like the protector.
She felt the way his muscles tensed, the way he was holding back his own panic for her sake. It would have been sweet if it hadn't been so pathetic.
"Here, let me help you inside," Damien said, guiding her to the couch in her spacious living room.
Elena sank into the plush cushions, her exhaustion no longer just an act. She was tired, both physically and mentally, but the plan still had a long way to go.
Damien stood over her, his eyes scanning her face with a mixture of concern and guilt.
"Do you have a first-aid kit? I'll help you clean the cut," he offered, his voice soft again, almost tender.
Elena looked up at him, considering.
She could have told him where the first-aid kit was. She could have let him clean the wound and play the part of the caring savior.
But instead, she reached up, wrapping her fingers around his wrist and gently tugging him down beside her. "It's fine," she murmured, resting her head on his shoulder. "Just... stay here for a minute."
Damien hesitated for a moment, but eventually, he relaxed, his body going still beside hers.
She could feel it in the way his arm hovered uncertainly around her shoulders, unsure if he should hold her or keep his distance.
Elena closed her eyes, letting the exhaustion from her elaborate game finally catch up with her.
But even as she drifted off to sleep, a small, satisfied smile played on her lips.
The game was just getting started.