BOILING POINT

ELENA'S POV

I stepped out of the room, peering left and right to be sure that Damien was nowhere to be found. When I was sure he was nowhere in sight, I walked to the living room.

"Elena," I heard my name, and jumped. Jeez, this man has got to stop scaring me like this. I saw him in the kitchen, making dinner. Or more like a very early breakfast, seeing that it was just past 11 pm. I soon joined him, albeit warily, and took a seat by the kitchen counter.

"I'm sorry for barging in on you like that. I'm not used to having people around me," he apologized. 

I popped open a bottle of red wine I had seen on the island and poured myself a glass. I took a big gulp. "I bet you were ogling me, fucking me with your eyes. Let me make one thing clear: get those dirty thoughts out of your head. Get that image of me out of your head, okay? I'm not like the girls you fuck around with. Even if the world were ending and you needed to have sex to save it, I'd rather die with the rest of the world. And seriously, you need to normalize not scaring the shit out of me!"

"I apologize for scaring you," he said, although he wasn't half as interested in the apology as if he was anything but sorry. But he was more focused on flambéing a skillet of vegetables, and I felt I should let him off the hook this time. I looked more like a helpless couch potato the more I looked at him skillfully weaving his way through the kitchen.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" I offered, although I knew there was nothing much I could do, seeing that I lived a sheltered life up until my arrest and going to jail. Besides what happened last night, I don't blame him for being wary of me being in the kitchen.

He snapped his gaze to me, like he probably didn't hear me. "No, thank you," he replied, looking away again.

I grunted. "Then why did you call me here?"

"To make you dinner," he responded absentmindedly. His tone was becoming more annoying by the minute and I was losing my shit the longer I was in the same space with him.

"Oh, so you realized I'm hungry, huh? Tell me, am I really a prisoner in your house? Meant to sit and look pretty, yet unfed," I snapped.

"I gave you my card," he deadpanned, turning from me to grab plates. My rage shot through the roof, and I was ready to overturn everything as I got up. But my stomach growled in protest, and I sat back down, seething within me instead.

"I don't fucking care for your card, dumbass."

"Don't you know how to cook?"

That shut me up. He placed a plate in front of me and sat down, setting his plate before himself and getting to eat without acknowledging me. Urrggh, he's so incorrigible and so darn annoying. 

Getting an idea, I took a forkful of cut steak and vegetables, making sure to spill some sauce on the counter as it went to my mouth. His eye twitched, his jaw ticked, like he was trying to control himself from losing his cool.

"What's the next phase of the plan?" he asked, deciding it was best to ignore my antics than play along. I scoffed. This dude is so full of himself. But he was back to business, cold as ever to the point of being intimidating.

"I want to start taking everything that's mine from them. Starting with the company," I replied, getting serious too.

"And how do you intend to do that?"

"By buying shares and becoming the largest shareholder in the company. Then I move the motion to throw them out."

He thought about it for a while. "That'll be hard," he said, mulling it over.

"I have a trust that my dad left for me secretly before he died, although I don't know why. I don't know how much it's worth now, possibly around $ 3 billion. And I'm not sure it will do much to buy enough shares."

"And what's the plan to prove they're the killers?"

I thought about it, I didn't really know, and I was throwing my plans out in the dark, hoping for the best results possible. But I was not about to tell him that. "I'm thinking we should pit them against each other some more. 

We must separate them and sever the relationship they share with each other. I'll get closer to her, too, in order to find the clues. I know my sister, once she forms a new bond after feeling alone for a long time, she'd spill everything and anything."

He nodded. "How sure are you it will work?

"I know it will. And I'll keep looking for more evidence to prove that they killed your brother," I replied.

"Adrian is a tough nut to crack, though. I was lucky to overhear him talk about getting back at me for what I did at the party." I raised my eyebrow in wonder. "Don't worry, I took care of it."

My mind went to the blood splatter on his crisp white shirt, I had briefly seen when he entered my room. I wasn't sure if I should ask him about it. "Did you__ kill him?"

He locked eyes with me, and my blood froze over in fear. 

"You sound like you're still in love with him," he taunted, and I scowled.

"I'm__ I'm not in love with Adrian." He betrayed me and broke my heart. "I only asked because you came back so late and your shirt was splashed with blood."

His features hardened, and he got to his feet. "Goodnight, Elena."

"Who did you kill, Damien?" I asked, with boldness in my voice, but my insides were shaking, scared. He looked at me, his icy blue eyes frosty and colder than ice.

"I don't think you want to know. You may not live to tell the story."