Chapter 13
ELENA
Ididn’t know if I passed out or simply slept.
When my eyes opened again, sunlight cut sharply through the curtains, flooding the room with morning light.
Vincenzo was no longer beside me.
The bed was empty, the sheets on his side cool to the touch.
He wasn’t in the room at all.
The space felt strangely hollow, as if the intense heat of last night had never happened.
He had slipped away while I slept, leaving nothing behind but the faint ache between my thighs and the memory of his growl against my neck.
The room still smelled of sex—musk, sweat, the faint tang of release.
My body ached in the best way—sore between my thighs, tender in spots I hadn’t known could be tender.
I sat up slowly, a soft wince escaping as my body protested the movement.
The deep soreness between my thighs sent a fresh spark of heat through me.
A shy, secret smile touched my lips.
I had always heard sex was good.
I had read the words, imagined it in the dark, but never truly believed how consuming it could be.
Now I knew.
It wasn’t just pleasure.
It was devastating.
I wanted more.
I wanted him again — that thick, relentless fullness stretching me open, the way my body had surrendered so completely, the way the entire world had narrowed down to nothing but him.
I rose on trembling legs and reached for the nightgown crumpled on the floor.
As I pulled the silk over my head, the fabric brushed against my still-sensitive skin, sending little shivers racing through me.
I should clean up.
The thought came to me belatedly.
I eased out of Vincenzo’s room and gently shut the door, turning my back on it.
Barefoot and still flushed, I walked down the long corridor, the cool marble floor sending little shocks through my soles with every step.
The cold only made me more aware of the deep, tender ache between my legs — a constant, throbbing reminder of what he had done to me.
The house was quieter now.
I pushed my door open and stepped inside, already turning the moment over in my head—
Then I stopped.
Everything in me went still.
Because she was there.
Of all people—the one person I never expected to find in my room.
Violet.
She stood in the center of my bedroom like she belonged there.
Pale silk robe tied loosely at her waist, dark hair falling around her shoulders in soft waves.
Her skin looked almost translucent under the light, her expression fragile—carefully arranged to appear fragile.
“Oh my goodness!”
She gasped, shrinking back a step as though I had caught her in something scandalous.
“I was just... wandering,” she said quickly, placing a hand lightly against her chest. “Out of boredom. I didn’t realize this was your room.”
I didn’t move.
Just looked at her.
She knew.
She absolutely knew.
Of all the doors in this villa—of all the rooms she could have wandered into—she had chosen mine.
And somehow, she expected me to believe it was an accident.
“I see,” I said at last.
My voice came out calm.
Still carrying the roughness of sleep—and something sharper.
“You can leave now.”
Her expression shifted instantly.
As if she had been waiting for that exact tone.
Her face crumpled into something soft.
Vulnerable.
Perfectly tragic.
“Oh... Elena...”
Her voice trembled as she stepped forward, slow and hesitant.
Like she was approaching something fragile.
“You stole him from me.”
Her voice was quiet—too quiet.
Soft enough to pass for hurt, if you didn’t listen too closely.
“And yet... you look at me like I’m the villain.”
She took a step forward. Then another.
Closing the space between us inch by inch.
“Why?” she asked, her tone almost trembling, almost sincere.
“I’ve never done anything to you.” A faint pause, her gaze locking onto mine.
“If anything...”
“You’re the one who took everything from me.”
I let out a quiet breath, more irritation than surprise.
“No one hates you, Violet. You’re not nearly that important.”
“Stop being dramatic.”
She was standing in my room.
In my space.
And somehow, she was the one looking at me like I didn’t belong—like I had walked into her life and torn it apart.
Like she knew exactly what had happened between Vincenzo and me last night.
I stepped fully inside the room.
She lifted a hand to her face, dabbing delicately at the corner of her eye.
A tear slipped free.
“I’m just a weak woman with a failing heart and very little time left,” Violet said, her voice soft and trembling with delicate sorrow.
Her hand drifted to her stomach, fingers brushing over the barely-there curve,
“It has always been my greatest wish to be Vincenzo’s wife one day. Now that I’m carrying his child... you don’t need to hate me anymore, Elena. We must raise this baby together.”
I’d be a fool to believe a single word coming out of this woman’s mouth.
“Get out.”
My voice cut through the room like ice.
Violet blinked, clearly caught off guard.
She hadn’t expected resistance.
“Elena, please—”
“Get. Out.” I took a step forward, my tone turning lethal. “Or I will make you.”
She stared at me for a long, tense second.
The air in the room grew thick and heavy.
Then the mask slipped.
The tears vanished.
The trembling lip steadied.
The fragile, delicate woman I had been watching disappeared in an instant.
In her place stood someone far colder.
Far more dangerous.
Her spine straightened, erasing every trace of vulnerability.
Her chin lifted. Shoulders squared.
The performance peeled away layer by layer until only calculation remained.
“I see you finally managed to whore yourself to my man,” Violet said, her tone laced with disgust. “You stink of sex and him.”
She stepped closer, eyes narrowing with barely contained fury.
“Vincenzo has never fucked me. Not once. I tried everything — even sent beautiful women to his bed — but he never touched them. Yet you... you disgusting slut somehow succeeded where I failed.”
Her voice turned icy.
“Don’t celebrate too soon.”
“He will never love you. He will never cherish you the way he cherishes me. If both of us were drowning, he would save me without hesitation.”
“This is only the beginning, Elena. I will win this war. I will humiliate you the same way you humiliated me on my wedding day. My family and my clan are already planning. We will make you suffer.”
I let a small, lazy smile touch my lips.
“Why does it bother you that I slept with my husband, Elena? It’s a marriage. What did you expect?”
I walked past her without hurry, letting the fabric of my nightgown shift against my thighs—still sensitive, still carrying the lingering ache of him.
“Of course I smell like him.”
I stopped near the mirror, glancing at my reflection before looking back at her.
“And I’m still sore.”
A small pause. “Deliciously sore.”
Her jaw tightened.
“I suppose it’s not my fault he chose to marry me,” I continued, voice calm, almost conversational, “and left you standing at the altar in front of every powerful family in Europe.”
I tilted my head slightly.
“If you were half as important to him as everyone pretends, he wouldn’t have humiliated you, your father, and your entire bloodline on what was supposed to be your biggest day.”
Her fists clenched at her sides.
Knuckles whitening. Shoulders trembling.
“If only you knew how powerful my family truly is,” Violet sneered. “You’d be on your knees begging for mercy. The entire Spanish mafia has a bounty on your head.”
I laughed softly, unfazed.
“Since you’re so eager to boast about your family’s power, let me tell you about mine.
Ruslan Baranov — surely you’ve heard the name.
A man more powerful than every mafia family in Italy combined.
He’s had a bounty on me for six long years.
Hundreds of assassins. Unlimited resources. All dedicated to hunting me down.”
I tilted my head, eyes locked on hers.
“Yet here I stand. I’ve killed more of his men than he can keep track of.”
My smile turned icy. “It’s been more than two weeks since Vincenzo married me and left you standing humiliated in your wedding dress in front of the entire underworld. Your precious Spanish clan is furious... but they still haven’t found me.”
Her eyes flickered with uncertainty for a split second.
“Violet,” I said quietly, voice laced with warning, “I’m not the soft, fragile woman you think I am. I’m a dangerous killer. If you’re smart... you’ll stay the hell away from me. Completely.”
The silence that followed was thick.
Then she stepped closer.
I moved back—not out of fear, but refusal.
I wouldn’t let her control the space between us.
“Stop coming closer.”
My voice came out flat. “If you’re looking for someone to hurt you,” I continued, colder now, “find someone else.”
A beat.
“And if this is some kind of setup...”
My gaze flicked briefly to the CCTV camera mounted in the corner—just long enough for her to notice.
“It won’t work.”
Silence stretched again, tighter this time.
I turned, finished with her games, and twisted the doorknob.
The door creaked open.
“For the last time—” My gaze pinned her, unwavering.
“Get out. Now.”
She didn’t move at first.
Instead, she smiled.
Cruel. Knowing.
Like she’d said exactly what she came to say.
She stepped past me—then paused at the doorway.
Glanced back over her shoulder.
“I will ruin you, Elena.”
“I will break you so completely that you’ll wish you had never been born. You’ll lose everything — including him.”
Then she walked out—rage trailing behind her like fire.
The fabric of her robe whispered against the floor as she moved..
And she left the door open behind her.
I stood there for a moment with my back pressed against the door, breathing slow and controlled.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
My pulse steadied gradually.
But my thoughts didn’t.
Why the hell was she behaving like that?
Was she trying to provoke me?
Push me into reacting—so the cameras could capture it?
So she could twist it? So she could present me as unstable?
Dangerous? Unfit?
The thought lingered.
My jaw tightened.