Claimed by the Don

Chapter 5: The Return

The Moretti estate hadn't changed. The iron gates, the cypress trees, the smell of garlic and old wood. Elena stepped through the front door and felt her pulse stutter, not from nostalgia but from dread.

He'll be here. He'll be at the wedding. Be ready.

"There she is!" Luca crushed her in a hug, lifting her off the floor. "Look at you! You're taller. How are you taller?"

"Heels," she grinned.

She was in a fitted emerald dress, hair loose past her shoulders, lips painted deep red. She'd chosen every piece deliberately, armor disguised as elegance.

"Everyone's in the garden," Luca said. "Come, say hello."

She walked through the French doors and the evening air hit her, warm, honeyed, heavy with jasmine. Conversations rippled and dimmed as heads turned.

And at the far end of the terrace, a man in a black suit set down his glass.

Damian.

Four years had sharpened him. Silver threaded his temples now. His shoulders seemed broader, his stillness more dangerous. But it was his eyes that nearly undid her, dark and fixed on her with an intensity that stole the oxygen from her lungs.

Don't flinch. Don't you dare.

She crossed the lawn with a smile she'd practiced in a hundred mirrors.

"Damian." She offered her hand like a stranger. "It's been a while."

He took it. His palm was hot, his grip lingering a heartbeat too long. His thumb brushed over her knuckles, barely, and a shiver ran straight down her spine.

"Elena." Her name came out rough, like it hurt. "You've changed."

"People do."

She slid her hand free and walked past him without another word.

He didn't move. He couldn't. He only stood there, one fist clenched at his side, feeling a single terrifying truth settle in his bones.

He was in trouble. Deep, irreversible trouble.

And across the garden, a stranger raised a glass to Elena and smiled a smile that didn't reach his eyes.