Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Igor
Five fucking years.
I stared at that design magazine, my fingers nearly tearing the page to shreds.
The woman in the photo wore a sharp black suit, her hair pulled back elegantly, revealing her long neck.
She stood in her studio, with fancy jewelry cases behind her, her eyes full of a mature confidence I'd never seen before.
But I recognized her in an instant. Even with all the changes, even with her whole vibe completely different, even after five years had shaped her into someone new, I fucking spotted Elena right away.
"Get me her address," I snapped at Artyom across from me. "Now."
Artyom nodded and backed out.
I scanned the interview again. The reporter asked about her inspirations, and she smiled, saying, "Life's trials make you grow. I went through betrayal, but I met someone who saved me, got me out of that heartbreak, and gave me a fresh start."
Saved her. Got her out. My fist slammed into the oak desk, knocking over the pen holder.
Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!
What the hell had I been doing these past five years? Expanding my empire until I could crush Salvatore outright. So I'd watched her disappear into Italy, unable to send my guys deep into his territory to search.
I should've found her easily, but now I understood why. Someone had covered her tracks, gotten her on a plane with a fake ID. And that asshole had "saved" her, "got her out of that heartbreak."
My jaw clenched so hard it ached. For five years, I'd even thought she was dead!
But thank God she was alive—alive, healthy, and beautiful. That was enough. I was grateful.
A knock came at the door. Artyom entered with a tablet. "Got it, Don. 'Stella' headquarters in Tuscany. Elena Jensen lives at—"
I snatched the tablet and glanced at the address. Tuscany.
A place my men had never delved into deeply, because it was Cosa Nostra territory—Salvatore's main stronghold. Over the past five years, that old bastard and I had been one spark away from all-out war. But now? It didn't matter. The Bratva was strong enough.
"Prep the jet," I said, standing and grabbing my coat. "Right now."
The twelve-hour flight felt like pure torture.
I sat in the leather seat of my private plane, unable to sleep a wink.
Outside, the endless night sky stretched on, clouds churning beneath the wings like frozen black waves.
Elena's face kept flashing in my mind—her smile, the way she slept peacefully in my arms. Five years. .. what the fuck had she been through?
We landed at Florence airport as night fully descended. The Tuscan air was warm and Mediterranean, thick with the scent of pine.
I brought only two of my most trusted men, driving an unassuming black sedan to the address.
Standing outside that Tuscan apartment building, the night was deep, the streets empty. It was a typical old Italian structure, its beige walls glowing warmly under the streetlights.
I signaled my men to stay downstairs. Slipping into the building was easy. Picking Elena's lock? Child's play. The door clicked open. I held my breath and stepped inside.
The apartment was quiet, lit only by a faint nightlight in the living room. My eyes scanned quickly: tidy setup, handmade art on the walls, design sketches on the coffee table. The air carried her scent—that light lemon hint.
She was here. She was really here.
Then I spotted the jacket on the sofa. A man's jacket. Navy blue, Italian brand, a size smaller than mine. My fingers clenched.
I moved further in and saw men's slippers in the shoe rack by the door. The kitchen had two coffee mugs—one with the "Stella" logo, the other plain.
She was living with a guy. My spine burned, rage surging like lava through my veins. She was fucking living with another man.
Deep breath. Deep breath. I forced myself to calm down. Maybe they were just friends. Maybe it was—
Then the photo on the fridge. Elena holding a little girl, maybe four or five, with blonde hair and sky-blue eyes. The kid was grinning hugely, Elena kissing her cheek.
On the back: My little Stella, happy 5th birthday.
My world stopped. Five years old. We'd split five years ago. If she'd been pregnant... no. No way. If it were mine, she would've told me. She wouldn't—
Footsteps echoed in the hall. I quickly scanned the small space and slipped silently behind the balcony curtains just as the key turned in the lock. The folds hid me perfectly, but I could see everything through the gap.
The door opened, and the lights came on. Elena walked in. Five years later, and there she was, less than five meters away. Simple white shirt, jeans, hair loosely tied back, her face tired. But still so beautiful it twisted my gut.
She dropped her bag on the sofa and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. I watched her profile, the slight frown on her brow, the line of her neck as she drank—once covered in my kiss marks.
My fingers itched to pull back the curtain. But then the door opened again. A man stepped in, in his thirties. He saw Elena and gave her a soft smile.
"Elena, how was work today?" His tone was intimate, like this was their everyday routine.
"Tiring, Marco," Elena sighed. "That Milan client changed the specs again."
He walked over and placed his hand naturally on her shoulder. "Don't push yourself too hard. Is Stella asleep?"
"Yeah, the nanny put her down."
They stood so close, so naturally. His hand lingered, and she didn't pull away. My vision blurred, blood roaring in my ears. This bastard was touching her. Touching my woman. I nearly burst out, nearly snapped his fucking neck.
Just as my control was about to snap, a phone rang sharply. He pulled it out, checked it, and his face shifted from gentle to serious.
"It's the hospital," he told Elena. "Emergency surgery. I have to go right now."
"Go ahead," Elena nodded, walking him to the door. "Drive safe."
"Will do." Marco leaned in, his eyes full of affection. "I might not make it back to the apartment tonight."
Elena nodded understandingly.
They looked like a goddamn loving couple.
Now Elena was alone. She locked the door, let out a long breath, rubbed her neck, and headed to the bedroom. Soon, the sound of the shower running filled the air.
I waited in the balcony shadows, every second like agony in hell.
The water stopped. Minutes later, the bathroom door opened. She stepped out, and my breath caught. She was completely naked.
Five years ago, I'd known every inch of her body. But now... she'd changed.
Her breasts were fuller and rounder than I remembered, the nipples hardening in the air, radiating a deadly sex appeal.
Her waist was still slim, but her hips were wider, more curvaceous, forming a perfect heart shape.
Every step made her breasts sway, her ass ripple like waves.
It was a mother's body, but it only made her hotter, transforming her from a girl into a sultry woman.
She'd had a child—that five-year-old girl, Stella. And I still didn't know if the baby was mine.
Elena grabbed a towel and casually dried her wet hair, completely unaware of the hungry eyes devouring her.
My throat went dry, my cock hardening instantly.
Did she do this when that man, that bastard Marco, was here? Walk out naked, displaying this ripe, tempting body to him? The thought of him seeing her, touching her—it made me want to kill.
Desire and fury twisted together, making my heart pound like a rock.
I was right there behind the curtain, just meters away, my eyes feasting on her nude form.
She bent over to pick up her pajamas, her ass lifting high, curves fully exposed, revealing that intimate spot I'd buried myself in night after night.
Her pussy was pink and slick, the lips plump and smooth, faintly glistening.
Her asshole, the one I'd always wanted to claim, was still tight and tempting, its pink folds bared in the bend, contracting slightly like an invitation.
That scorching sight made my blood surge. This body was supposed to be mine—yet it might have been taken by someone else.
I leaned against the wall, unzipped my pants, and gripped my rock-hard cock, stroking it roughly up and down.
I imagined lunging from behind, grabbing her full ass cheeks, spreading them wide, and slamming my dick straight into that tender pussy.
She'd scream, struggle, but soon surrender to my roughness, her walls clenching greedily around me just like five years ago, sucking me in.
I'd thrust hard, pounding into her depths, making her cry out for mercy while moaning my name. I pictured hammering her hole, the wet heat gripping me, juices splashing, her ass bouncing with elastic ripples. She was mine, damn it—every hole meant to be filled by me.
I'd switch to her ass, forcing my way into that resisting tightness, conquering her untouched territory. She'd feel the pain, cry out, but eventually melt under my possession, admitting she could never escape me.
My hand moved faster, my cock throbbing in my palm, veins bulging. I gritted my teeth, my mind flooded with filthy visions—her tits bouncing, pussy squirting, ass spasming, her whole body trembling as I flooded her with my seed.
At the brink of release, I bit down on my hand to stifle every sound. Hot spurts shot out, splattering the curtain, as I gasped, my body trembling, my gaze still locked on her sexy figure.
I steadied my breathing and fixed my clothes.
Then Elena suddenly froze, slipping on her pajamas. She whipped her head toward the balcony. She'd sensed something.
Her expression turned alert. "Who's there?"
She approached the curtain slowly, cautiously.
A second before she could pull it back, I vaulted over the railing. I hung like a ghost from the edge by my fingertips, my body pressed flat against the outer wall. It was the third floor—a fall wouldn't kill me, but it would blow my cover.
Elena yanked the curtain open and saw an empty balcony. The night wind tousled her hair.
She frowned, standing there for a few seconds, checking the corners. She found nothing. Shaking her head, she rubbed her temples—maybe thinking she was just being paranoid. She went back inside and clicked the balcony door locked.
My fingers held steady in the wall cracks, my body clinging like a gecko, breath even, muscles relaxed.
The bedroom light went out. I waited a few minutes, certain she was asleep, then silently flipped back down onto the balcony.
I stared deeply toward the bedroom one last time, then vanished into the Tuscan night just as I'd arrived.
Elena. I've got you now. You're not escaping me again.