The Mafia Heir’s Runaway Mistress Chapter 05

The Mafia Heir’s Runaway Mistress Chapter 05

Elena’s POV

When I actually started packing, I was surprised to find I didn’t feel much reluctance at all.

People change. What you want at twenty-three isn’t the same as what you want at twenty-eight.

New York was wonderful. But Boston was my home.

If Lorenzo had been a little more observant, he might have noticed.

The vase I loved most, the one that used to sit by the entryway, was gone.

My usually clingy cat was curled up in its bed, wrapped in bandages, licking itself listlessly.

And there was a shallow cut on my ankle, a thin line left by shattered porcelain.

But he noticed none of it.

After dinner, he went straight into his study to handle work.

He was flying to Florida the next day.

There were business assets he needed to look into. Several children from past affairs had also surfaced unexpectedly.

He probably wouldn’t be back for quite some time.

Which gave me just the window I needed. To end the pregnancy and leave.

I did one last walk-through of the house.

The closet was mostly filled with designer bags and jewelry—useless to me back in Boston.

Just as I was about to close the wardrobe door, a diamond ring slipped from one of the shelves and fell onto the floor.

Lorenzo had bought it at an auction last year—not because he liked it, but to spite the wife of one of his rivals.

It was supposed to be a matching set—his and hers. He’d thrown the men’s ring away.

The message was clear—don’t get any ideas.

I found the original velvet box and carefully put the ring back inside.

Then I pulled out a postcard.

I wanted to leave something behind—a note to mark the end of these five years.

But after sitting there for a while, I couldn’t think of anything worth writing.

At the end of the day, it was just a transaction—you give, I take, no hard feelings.

If anything, I was almost grateful to Sienna for pulling me back before I sank too deep.

Chin in hand, I stared into space between sentences.

Ink bled into the page at every pause.

Lorenzo, thank you for taking care of me these past five years.

I loved New York. It was always so alive. But I was lonely here, more often than I’d like to admit.

I miss home. I want to settle down somewhere quiet.

My parents are getting older. They need me.

Don’t hate me, Lorenzo.

—

Mostly, I just wrote whatever came to mind.

At the very end, I added one final sentence.

I hope you get everything you want. Congrats on the wedding.

By the time I capped my pen, it was midnight.

Lorenzo had just gotten out of the shower.

Seeing me tossing and turning in bed, he reached over and tugged the blanket down so our eyes met.

“Can’t sleep?”

“A little.”

“Because I’m not lying next to you?” One brow arched, teasing, as he leaned in closer.

After a brief hesitation, I nodded out of habit.

The truth was, I was thinking about whether to reschedule my flight.

The doctor had said I could leave the hospital the same day after the procedure under general anesthesia.

But doing it alone—I wasn’t sure I could manage.

I had always been used to relying on someone.

First my parents. Then Lorenzo.

A knowing smile tugged at his lips.

“Knew it. So clingy.”

He pulled back the covers and slid into bed, his black silk robe hanging loosely open.

Across his chest, faint marks were visible.

They weren’t mine. I had never dared leave marks that hard.

His words sounded dismissive, but his actions told a different story.

The moment he settled down, he pulled me closer into his arms.

I stared at the ceiling for a while.

Then I rolled over to face him. “Lorenzo.”

“Hm?”

“If I accidentally fell and lost the baby, would you be angry?”

“I don’t know.” The answer came immediately.

With everything falling perfectly into place lately, his usual confidence had returned.

“Honestly, I don’t even like kids. They’re loud and annoying.”

He glanced at me. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason.” I kept my voice even. “Just wondering.”

I closed my eyes.

Sleep was beginning to pull me under.

Then suddenly, Lorenzo placed a hand over my slightly rounded stomach.

His palm rested there, still.

Then he felt it—that faint flutter beneath his hand.

A faraway look crossed his face.

“If it’s your child,” he murmured, “it’ll probably be well-behaved.”

…It wasn’t, actually.

I tilted my head up and let him kiss me.

All the while, my mind was elsewhere—already planning how to end the pregnancy and walk away clean.