All Chapters of His Beauty Her Beast: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Elena's POVIt was 7:15 PM.The office was finally silent, soaked in the kind of stillness that only came when the fluorescent lights started to flicker slightly and the air conditioning hummed with sleepy finality. Everyone had left. Even Nina had vanished hours ago. The world beyond these glass walls had softened into the quiet lull of evening traffic and city lights stretching their limbs into the dusk.I pulled my bag over my shoulder, exhaled, and turned—ready to step into the elevator, into the night, into a quiet dinner where someone would actually smile at me instead of shooting daggers across the room for putting his files in alphabetical order instead of chronological.But I barely got two steps before I collided into someone.Solid. Broad. Warm. Too close.I staggered back with a sharp gasp, only for a hand—his hand—to catch my wrist before I could fall backward.“Careful,” Rowan said, voice as low and steady as ever.Of course it was him.Of course.He didn’t let go of my

Elena's POVThe moment the words left his mouth—“Sweetheart, I think you’re mistaken. I never sent you any flowers.” —it was like someone had pulled a rug out from under me.A cold rush of blood ran through my veins so fast I almost felt dizzy. For a moment, the sound of clinking glasses and murmured conversations in the restaurant faded, replaced by the deafening thud of my own heartbeat.I blinked at him, searching his face for even the slightest sign that he might be lying. But his expression was deadly serious, the lightness from before completely gone. Damon wasn’t teasing, wasn’t being coy. He genuinely had no idea what I was talking about.Which meant…My gut twisted. My instincts, the ones I’d been brushing off for days, screamed at me that I was right all along. The feeling I’d been having—that crawling sensation on the back of my neck when I walked home, the flicker of a shadow in my periphery, the sound of footsteps when I knew I was alone—it wasn’t paranoia.Someone was wat

Elena's POVNatalie was halfway through explaining something ridiculous about the guy she’d been flirting with when I heard it.The low, greasy voices from the table behind us. The laughter. The words.“Oh, I’d let her sit on my lap.”“Bet she’s a screamer.”“Look at the legs on that one—heels like that, she’s asking for it.”I felt my jaw tighten. I didn’t turn around. I’d dealt with creeps before, and ignoring them was usually the fastest way to make them bored.Natalie’s voice dropped. “They’re talking about us.”“I know,” I said, my tone sharp enough to cut glass. “Let’s go.”She nodded, her own smile gone, and we grabbed our bags. We didn’t bother finishing our drinks—we just stood and started toward the door.And then—A hand.Firm. Grabbing my ass.It was instinct.I spun on my heel so fast the guy didn’t have time to register what was happening before my knee came up—hard—right between his legs.He made a strangled noise, doubling over like someone had just unplugged him from

Elena's POVThe lockup smelt like damp walls, disinfectant, and bad decisions. The kind of place where echoes bounce too loudly and time drags too slowly. The steel bench under me was cold against my thighs, the bars in front of me a reminder that somehow my “date night” with Damon had morphed into jail night with Natalie. Not exactly the kind of romantic twist I was hoping for.I leaned back, crossing my arms tightly against my chest, trying to ignore the sting of the bandage tugging at the cut on my arm. My knuckles throbbed faintly too, bruises blooming across my skin like badges of honour. Fine. Whatever. I could handle pain. What I couldn’t handle was the sheer stupidity of how tonight spiralled.First: sleazy men who thought groping women was some kind of sport. And second—most irritating of all—Rowan, who apparently had nothing better to do than play shadow and saviour, trailing me like some broody bloodhound who couldn’t mind his own damn business.I kicked the bench leg just

Elena's POVThe clattering of keys jolted me awake.For a moment, I didn’t remember where I was. My head felt heavy, my neck stiff from the way I’d leaned against the cold cement wall. The air smelt of damp iron, stale sweat, and something bitter that clung to the back of my throat. I blinked slowly, trying to piece together reality as golden rays of sunlight filtered through the narrow vent high above the cell.Morning.God, we had actually spent the night in jail.I let out a low groan, dragging a hand over my face. My eyes darted sideways—Natalie was sprawled beside me on the thin bench, her mouth cracked, her hair a wild halo against her cheek. She was snoring softly, her face twitching every few seconds like she was arguing with someone in her dream. Of course she’d manage to sleep soundly in a cell. Typical Natalie.The jingling of the keys grew closer, echoing against the concrete walls. The sound scraped against my half-asleep brain. My brows furrowed just as the officer appea