Hours passed in a blur, and by the time Elena stirred from her sleep, the sun was already high in the sky, casting warm rays through the windows.
Blinking her eyes open, she realized she was lying on the sofa, a familiar scent surrounding her.
She glanced down to find Damien's coat draped over her, keeping her warm.
Just then, the sound of footsteps caught her attention, and she glanced up. Damien walked in from the kitchen, holding a glass of water in his hand.
His expression was unreadable, but there was something softer in his eyes, something she hadn't seen before.
"Hey, how are you feeling?" he asked, holding the glass out to her.
Elena sat up, taking the glass from him with a faint smile, one that felt more bitter than comforting.
"Okay... I guess," she muttered.
She took a sip of the water, grateful for the coolness that washed down her throat.
But as she lifted her hand to her face, she felt something unfamiliar on her forehead. Her fingers brushed against the smooth surface of a band-aid.
"I put it on while you were asleep," Damien said quietly, sitting down beside her.
Then, without warning, he leaned in and blew softly on the band-aid as if trying to soothe the wound beneath it, catching Elena off guard.
Her heart skipped. It was such a simple, almost intimate gesture, yet it sent a wave of panic surging through her.
This wasn't supposed to happen. She couldn't allow herself to feel anything for him—least of all affection.
Damien Lawson was the enemy. He was the man who ruined her life, the one she needed to ruin. Falling for him was not part of the plan.
For a while, they sat in silence, the tension between them palpable.
The air in the room grew thick with awkwardness, neither of them willing to break the moment.
Suddenly, the shrill ring of Damien's phone shattered the silence, pulling them both back to reality.
Elena's eyes darted to the caller ID, catching a glimpse of the name: Elliott Blue.
Damien quickly stood up and walked away to answer the call, his voice low but tense as he spoke.
Elena watched him, her thoughts spinning. Elliott Blue—the name had come up in her investigation, but there was so little information on him.
All she knew was that he was somehow connected to Damien, though the details were frustratingly vague. If she could just figure out how…
She pulled out her phone, scrolling through the data she had gathered. "Elliott Blue," she murmured under her breath, her fingers skimming through the various notes she had taken. There had to be something she was missing.
After what felt like forever, Damien returned to the room, his face clouded with frustration. Whatever that phone call had been about, it hadn't gone well.
"I've gotta go," he said, slipping his coat back on, his tone clipped and distant.
Surprisingly, Elena reached out and grabbed his arm. "Wait," she said, her voice softer than she intended. "Stay. At least let me cook you something as a thank you for helping me today."
Damien looked down at her, his hardened expression softening just a fraction.
He opened his mouth to refuse, but Elena wasn't ready to let him go. She gave him the look—one she knew no man could resist—her eyes wide and pleading like a sad puppy.
Damien sighed heavily, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. "Okay," he agreed, a small, reluctant smile tugging at his lips.
Elena blinked, momentarily thrown off. She had never seen him smile like that before.
There was something so different about him in that moment—something almost human, as if the ruthless, calculating Damien Lawson she knew had disappeared for a split second.
She hated it. She hated that she wanted to see that smile again, to be the reason for it.
Pushing the thought aside, she stood up and headed to the kitchen, determined to keep herself busy.
She rummaged through the cabinets, pulling out ingredients, but her mind was still buzzing with thoughts of Damien and that mysterious phone call.
But almost immediately, she found herself back in the living room, holding an apron in her hands. She glanced at Damien, who was still seated on the sofa, and without thinking, she held the apron out to him.
"Help me," she said, the words leaving her mouth before she could stop them.
Damien raised an eyebrow, but after a moment, he stood up and walked over to her.
He took the apron from her hands, his movements slow and deliberate.
He stepped behind her and leaned forward, wrapping the apron around her waist.
Elena's breath hitched as she felt his hands brush against her sides, the closeness of his body sending a jolt of electricity through her.
For a moment, neither of them moved. The air between them grew thick with tension, the unspoken attraction simmering just below the surface.
Elena's heart pounded in her chest, her mind screaming at her to stop this before it went too far.
She could feel his breath against the back of her neck, his presence overwhelming her senses. This was it. This was the moment where everything would change.
Elena turned around slowly, her eyes locking with Damien's.
There was something unspoken between them, something raw and dangerous that neither of them could deny.
She could see the uncertainty in his eyes, the way his chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. He was on edge, teetering on the brink of something he didn't fully understand.
A small, knowing smile tugged at Elena's lips. She had him. He was right where she wanted him.
Without breaking eye contact, she stood on her tiptoes, raising herself to his level. She leaned in slowly, deliberately brushing her body against his.
Damien's breath hitched, his eyes darkening as he watched her every move.
This was it—the moment she had been waiting for. The moment where she would make him fall, just as she had planned all along.
She could see the way Damien's throat bobbed as he swallowed, the tension in his body radiating outward.
And then, with a softness she hadn't expected, Elena closed the distance, her lips meeting his in a soft, lingering kiss.