STOP IGNORING ME!

ELENA’S POV

We soon reached his mansion and, without another word, Damien got out of the car, heading for the door. I rushed after him fuming, he couldn’t just walk out so calmly and collected after throwing a fast one on me like that. 

“What the hell did you just say to me?” I shot after him. But he ignored me, getting off his coat jacket and his suit and carefully and neatly hanging them on the coat rack. I swore under my breath, he was really acting like I don’t exist.

“Hey, dickhead,” I spat, but he kept on ignoring me, pretending like I was invisible.

He made his way straight to his bedroom and without thinking, I followed him, still ranting and fuming. I hated that he made me feel small. Urrggh, and he just had to have the last say.

“Stop fucking ignoring me,” I shrieked. He stopped this time, turning to me and boil, did he look pissed. I gulped visibly on seeing the hard expression on his face, his lips drawn into a thin line.

It was surprisingly hot to look at.

He began stalking towards me and my eyes widened at how much the space between us shrunk smaller and smaller with every stride he took towards me. Oh boy, I should get out of here. With every step he took forward, I took another step back.

One step forward.

One step back.

My back hit a hard flat surface and I let out a soft grunt then a gasp hitched in my throat as his huge frame reached dangerously close to me, looking to my side. I was in between him and the wall of his room, the door just inches within reach. Dang it.

I swallowed hard, scared to look at him. Against my better judgment and the voices in my head warring against me not to, I looked up. At him. And I almost melted.

“I’ve been keeping my cool, pretending like you don’t exist. And it’s been fun, very peaceful and quiet. You should try it sometime,” he growled lowly, his deep, velvety voice doing things to my senses all of a sudden. Snap out of it, my head was screaming at me. He was everything I was not, a warning sign, A red flag in all my books, but it was safe to say that I wasn’t listening to any other thing apart from his voice. 

“But your yapping is becoming incessant and uncontrollable. And it’s starting to get out of my nerves, princess.”

“Maybe if you gave me a reply, I wouldn’t have to keep yapping, dickwad,” I let out, although it just comes out as weak and nothing like I planned out in my head. He chuckled, like what I said was funny to him, and my nose flared, my cheeks red.

“Cute,” was all he said, and I raised my brow in disbelief, the brief trance I was in suddenly shattered. I sidestepped him, more eager to get to the door and run out for my life faster than I could blink than I was to keep arguing with him. “You should update your curse word dictionary. It sounds like it came from the nineteenth century,” he finished, straightening and turning away towards his bed.

If looks could kill, he’d have gone six feet under and back again twice already from the way I was glaring daggers at him. He looked at me, smiling cockily. “I’m getting undressed to take a shower. You want to stand there while I strip?” 

Oh dear.

If I thought I was red before, I went redder than a Carolina Reaper chili pepper. I smothered some more as his smirk deepened. “You’re welcome to stay, of course. I’m not a strip tease.”

I can’t keep listening. I stomped away as he barked out a laugh, peeved that despite all I did, he still had the last say. 

Jerk. 

There has to be something I could do to get back at him. Just then, one of the butlers passed by me. I stopped him, suddenly too hungry to think up a way to wipe that satisfactory smirk off his face. “Umm, is there anything to eat?” I asked, my stomach growling loudly on command. He smiled warmly, shaking his head.

“I’m afraid not, miss. Mr. Vance just fired the last chef recently and we haven’t got a new hire. For now, Mr. Vance does his cooking himself,” he replied. I gaped in disbelief.

“Everyday?” I had to ask.

“Every morning before he goes to work and in the evenings too,” the butler said. I groaned internally. Now I have to whip up something for dinner. Those hors de d'oeuvres at the event did nothing to quench the growing hunger I had all night. I trudged towards the kitchen, not really feeling up to cooking but having to do it because I was hungry.

I opened the cabinets to get stuff to make an easy make mac and cheese. Everything was placed neatly, color-coded and brand-coded, down to every little detail, his spice jar too was no different. Wow, OCD much? 

 As I moved about making my dinner, a very brilliant idea popped into my head. An idea very novel and very me that would send one vein popping at the sight. I snickered gleefully and got to work. I poured out some of the spices, replacing them with water and popping them in the freezer to chill. I reshuffled the dried ingredients and the packed stuffs, messing up the colors and placing them in no particular order. 

After I was sure my masterpiece was perfectly scripted, I sighed satisfactorily. He’d lose it when he wakes up. I finished making dinner and headed to the kitchen island to eat. I finished the food quickly and dumped the plates in the sink, not bothering to clear up the mess I made. 

I was proud of my work and I headed to the living room to sleep on the couch, since he’d not brought me here before and hasn’t given me a room to sleep. I soon drifted off to sleep on the soft couch.