Chapter 8

Elena’s POV

Lorenzo walked toward me.

Every step was heavy, as if he was trying to press two years of longing into the polished floor.

A fire burned in his eyes—that familiar, possessive look.

Just as he was about to touch me, a tall figure stepped between us.

"Step away from my fiancée."

The deep, Italian accent echoed through the terminal.

Lorenzo stopped dead, his eyes instantly turning dangerous.

He looked up at the man.

Six-foot-three, dark brown hair, a custom-tailored navy suit.

And an ancient family crest pinned to his lapel.

Lorenzo’s blood ran cold.

"The Don of the Ricci family," he spat, the name like poison on his tongue.

Matteo Ricci.

The current Don of one of the oldest mafia families in Italy.

And, for the last two years, my lover.

"Elena?" Lorenzo looked at me in shock. "What is this?"

I looked at him calmly. "We've been divorced for a long time, Lorenzo."

I paused. "It’s normal for me to move on. After all, you moved on long before our marriage was even over."

Matteo t