Episode-11
1365 Words
Elena woke up to the soft glow of morning sunlight filtering through the curtains, casting golden streaks across the lavish bedroom.
For the first time in what felt like forever, she didn’t wake up with the usual pit in her stomach. Instead, there was something oddly comforting about today, like a warmth settling into her bones, an unfamiliar yet welcome sense of peace.
Stretching under the silken sheets, she inhaled deeply. A delicious aroma wafted into the room, making her stomach tighten with hunger.
She sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from her eyes just as a soft knock sounded on the door. Before she could answer, Alessia stepped in, balancing a tray with two steaming plates.
"Good, you're awake," Alessia said with a smirk, nudging the door shut with her hip. "I figured you wouldn’t come down, so I brought breakfast to you."
Elena blinked in surprise, her eyes dropping to the tray. The scent of warm butter, eggs, and toasted bread mixed with the sweetness of fresh strawberries and honey. There was also a cup of black coffee and a small glass of orange juice. It was a simple meal, but to Elena, it looked like a feast.
"You didn’t have to," she murmured, though her stomach betrayed her by letting out a soft growl.
Alessia chuckled as she placed the tray on a small table. "Please. If I left you to the mercy of Valeria, you’d probably be starved by now. Come on, eat before it gets cold."
Elena hesitated only a moment before picking up her fork. The first bite of eggs melted on her tongue, rich and buttery, and she sighed without meaning to. Alessia, sitting across from her, grinned.
"Good, huh?"
Elena nodded as she chewed. "Really good."
They ate in comfortable silence for a while, the quiet hum of the estate providing an odd sense of normalcy. When the plates were mostly empty, Alessia leaned back in her chair, studying Elena with a thoughtful expression.
"You look different today," she mused.
Elena raised an eyebrow. "Different how?"
"I don’t know... lighter. Less haunted."
Elena looked down at her hands, unsure how to respond. Maybe she did feel a little lighter. Yesterday’s outing had been... nice. She had felt something close to happiness, a fleeting glimpse of what life could be beyond the walls of this mansion.
Alessia smirked. "Don’t get too comfortable, though. This house has a way of dragging you back into its darkness."
Elena didn’t doubt that.
~ ~ ~ ~
Victoria sat on the edge of her bed, her manicured nails drumming impatiently against the surface of a sleek black folder.
The infamous A.G. file. She had stolen it in the dead of night, slipping into Dante’s office with a key she had lifted from Valeria. Now, as the early morning light spilled into her room, she stared at it, frustration curling in her gut.
Her fingers traced over the smooth cover before she opened it.
Access Denied.
The words flashed on the screen of the tablet embedded within the folder. A passcode.
She clenched her jaw.
Of course Dante wouldn’t make this easy.
"Dammit," she hissed under her breath.
She tried a few possible codes—his birthdate, his mother’s, even the year he took over as head of the Italian Mafia. Nothing. The screen remained locked, mocking her with every failed attempt.
Frustration burned through her veins. She had been so close. So close to uncovering whatever secrets the Russo family was hiding—secrets that might lead her to the truth.
To him.
Her would’ve been lover, if he didn’t forcefully disappear with no traces.
Her grip on the device tightened as memories flickered in her mind, pulling her backward through time.
Flashback
The grand ballroom of the Devareux estate gleaned under the soft glow of golden chandeliers, the scent of expensive perfume and fine champagne thick in the air.
Victoria was draped in an emerald silk gown, the fabric clinging to her curves, her dark hair swept up in an elegant ponytail style, with strands left loose to frame her face. A pair of diamond earrings glittered against her skin, and her high heels clicked softly against the polished marble floor.
She had grown accustomed to events like this, grand parties filled with powerful men and their carefully polished wives, all exchanging empty pleasantries. It was all a game, a world she had been bred to navigate.
And yet, that night, something or rather, someone had captured her attention.
She had felt his eyes on her first. A quiet, lingering gaze that burned against her skin even before she turned to find him.
And when she finally did—
Dark eyes. Intense. The kind that stripped away all pretense.
He stood across the room, dressed in a fitted black tuxedo, his crisp white shirt slightly unbuttoned at the collar. His hair was neatly styled, swept back, revealing sharp cheekbones and a jawline that could cut glass.
He didn’t belong here.
Not in the way these other men did.
And yet, when he approached, every nerve in her body braced itself.
"You’ve been watching me all night," she said before he could speak.
A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "And if I have?"
"Then I’d ask what you want."
He tilted his head slightly, as if considering. Then: "A dance."
Victoria wasn’t sure why she said yes.
Maybe it was the way he looked at her, not like the daughter of a powerful family, not like a prize to be won, but like a puzzle he wanted to solve.
So she let him take her hand.
And when they danced, the world around them blurred into insignificance.
His touch was confident but not forceful, his movements precise. He wasn’t just any man at the party. He had purpose in the way he carried himself, the way he led.
"Who are you?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
He hesitated.
Just for a second.
And then, with a ghost of a smile, he said, "Roman."
Roman.
His voice, as smooth as butter. Something about the way he pronounced the name made vivid images of him buried deep inside her, with her pronouncing the name over and over again until it was deeply embedded into her memory that even a memory lapse couldn’t erase it.
And yet, before she could press further, someone called his name.
A deep, authoritative voice.
Victoria turned just in time to see a familiar figure in the distance—Lorenzo Russo, their mafia don.
Her blood ran cold.
The man in her arms tensed.
"Wait," she said, tightening her grip on his hand. "You’re with him?"
Roman gave her one last look, something unreadable flickering in his gaze.
Then he pulled away.
And before she could ask anything more—
He was gone.
Back To Present
Victoria blinked, snapping back to the present, her heart pounding.
The memory had haunted her for years.
Roman.
Who was he, really?
And why had he disappeared without a trace?
She exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. She couldn’t open the file, not yet. But she wasn’t giving up.
Her eyes flickered to her phone.
Quickly, she typed out a message to an anonymous number.
"Do you know anything about the A.G. file?"
She hit send.
Then, pushing the frustration aside, she stood and made her way to the bathroom. If she couldn’t crack the code today, she could at least distract herself.
With him, her new obsession.
As she undressed, she let her gaze drift to the mirror.
She chose a delicate silk lingerie set—black lace that hugged her curves in all the right places. A smirk played on her lips as she adjusted the thin straps, admiring her reflection.
Dante wouldn’t be able to resist her, not with how seductive she looked.
And as she stepped toward the door, making sure no one saw her, she knew one thing for certain.
Before the morning was over—
Dante Russo would be hers, and when he gets a taste, he won’t be able to stop himself from wanting more.
- Writer
