Chapter 47 Chapter forty-seven
Elena's POV
"I have been searching everywhere for you, two, “She said, and I looked at Rafael. Not boldly, or that desperate stare, but just enough to let him see it, just enough to give him the chance to do the right thing.
"Oh, Elena and I are just talking," Rafael said but didn't attempt to create distance between them. Arabella stood beside him, fingers curled possessively around his arm, her provocative dress clinging like it had been stitched onto her skin. She leaned closer, her lips turned down in a pout that looked practiced.
“Aren't you done talking?" She asked, pouting dramatically towards me, waiting for me to answer. I didn't say a word; I just stared, while she leaned more into Rafael. "I barely know anyone here,” she complained softly, though her voice carried a malicious grin. “I only came because you said you would be with me tonight. And you know I don't like parties.”
Oh yeah! You don't like parties but you are here. I said inwardly, while I waited. waited for Rafael to sigh, to gently pull his arm away, to tell her he would catch up with her later. To say something, anything, that acknowledged I existed beyond obligation. That she was clinging too much, and that his girlfriend was here, but no. My beloved fiancé didn't do any of that.
Instead, Rafael tightened his grip on her hand. “We should head back to the party,” he said, already turning toward the hall. Then he looked at me as if remembering I was still there. “You can join us inside.”
The words landed flat, and I swallowed. “You should go ahead,” I said quietly. “I will meet you there, just need to use the washroom.”
Rafael hesitated for half a second then he nodded. “Alright, don’t stay too long. This place isn’t exactly safe. Mafia everywhere, and these men are irresponsible.”
I nodded, because that was easier than explaining that danger wasn’t the thing tightening my chest. That Arabella was the one I was scared of; she is more dangerous than those mafia men with drugs and guns.
Arabella didn’t even look at me as she looped her arm around his forearm, pressing herself closer. Her head rested against his shoulder as Rafael guided her away. They were almost out of the hallway when she glanced back. Just once but I saw it. That look, the small curve of her lips. The glint in her eyes. Like the silent victory. I won again.
My chest burned in anger but I shook my head slowly, forcing the thought away. “You’re not going to cry,” I whispered to myself. “Not here, not over him, not because of Arabella.” I slipped into the washroom and leaned against the counter, gripping the edge as I stared at my reflection. My eyes were bright, but not from tears. I dabbed lightly at my face, smoothed my hair, and inhaled until my chest loosened.
Get it together, Elena. Rafael isn't worth your tears; he doesn't deserve you. When I returned to the sitting area, Shannon’s anxious gaze snapped to me instantly.
“Are you okay?” she asked, scooting closer the moment I sat beside her.
I shrugged. “I’m fine.”
She didn’t believe me, she rarely did, especially when I'm anywhere near Rafael. "Your father has been texting nonstop,” she said softly. “He keeps asking where you are.”
“I’m fine,” I repeated. “I’m here now.”
Shannon hesitated, then lowered her voice. “I saw Rafael coming out of the hallway with Arabella. I got scared. Did something happen? I thought you two were supposed to talk. Why is he with Arabella and not you?”
I exhaled slowly. “Rafael isn’t my worry right now.”
She tilted her head, then frowned. “Then who is?”
“Have you seen...” I paused.
She smiled knowingly, then leaned in. “Nikolai, the sweet boy?” she whispered
I laughed before I could stop myself. It wasn’t loud, just soft, and real. I wasn't laughing because she mentioned Nikolai's name but because the naughty Shannon referred to Nikolai as a sweet boy,
Shannon laughed too, the sound lighting something in the room. When my father’s gaze flicked toward us and he saw us laughing together, his shoulders relaxed. Relief crossed his face before he turned back to the conversation with the other Mafia lords, voices low and serious. Shannon nudged me. “You’re falling too hard.”
I rolled my eyes. “For his face? Please.”
“For everything,” she corrected gently.
I opened my mouth to protest, then closed it. “Stop,” I said, smiling despite myself. “Where is he?”
"Aren't you supposed to be searching for Rafael, the golden detector?" I hit her shoulders playfully.
"Stop joking around, have you seen him?"
Shannon leaned closer, whispering, “Top floor.”
My eyes instinctively lifted, and she grabbed my chin immediately. “Don’t.”
I laughed. “Why not?”
“If you want Nikolai to fall hopelessly for you,” she whispered dramatically, “ignore him.”
I raised a brow. “And who taught you that?” She opened her mouth to answer, but my phone pinged. I froze, staring at my screen, then I smiled. Wild enough for Shannon to notice.
“Well,” she said smugly. “That didn’t take long. Is he texting already?” I tilted my head towards her
"Who?" I asked smirked
"Nikolai, of course,"
"Silly, He doesn't even have my number," I mouthed, turning my screen to her. She smiled.
"Carson!" She mouthed.
"Yeah! The naughty little uncle." I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t hide my smile.
Carson is my dad’s younger brother, only four years older than me. Four. Honestly, I don’t even see him as my uncle. He is way too young for that title. We even attended the same high school. Half of my female classmates had crushes on him. He had that hot, careless Playboy look that made teachers suspicious and girls stupid.
My phone buzzed again.
\[Carson: What's my favorite person doing today, or have you replaced your favorite uncle?\] I rolled my eyes and typed back.
\[Me: Do you remember me today?\] The reply came almost instantly.
\[Carson: I always remember you. You’re my favorite niece.\]
I snorted. \[Me: You don’t have another niece. It’s just me.\] There was a typing pause, then his message popped up.
\[Carson: Fine. You caught me. But you’re still my favorite person.\] Heat crept up my cheeks despite myself. I hated that he could do that, make me smile so easily. Make me melt like a child.
\[Me: I’m blushing. But I’m also mad at you.\]
Shannon leaned closer. “What did he do now?”
“He didn’t send my Christmas present,” I muttered, thumbs flying. Carson replied with zero shame.
\[Carson: If you agree that you’re still a baby, Santa might visit you.\]
I gasped softly. “He did not just call me a baby.” Shannon burst out laughing as I shoved the phone in her face. She read the message and nearly choked.
“Santa?” she wheezed.
I typed furiously. \[Me: I am not a baby. And I already got a Christmas gift. I don’t need Carson Santa visiting me.\] I knew he hated it when I used his name instead of “Uncle,” but I liked doing it. He was too young for that title anyway.
Three dots appeared and disappeared. Then came the message that made my smile falter slightly.
\[Carson: Oh really? I figured you would be tucked in one corner of Moretti’s mansion. Bored, not allowed to have fun because Valkor is too scared to let his princess out of his sight.\]
I froze for a second. Shannon raised a brow. “What did he say?”
I tilted the phone away from her, suddenly defensive. “Nothing.”
But my heart was pounding. He knew how to poke. I lifted my chin and typed slowly.
\[Me: Sorry to disappoint you, little Uncle. I’m not in a corner.\] A second later, I added, \[Me: I’m at a mafia gathering in Italy.\] The moment I hit send, I realized how insane that sounded.
There was no reply. Then suddenly, incoming Video Call: Carson
My lips curved. “Oh, he is panicking,” Shannon whispered. I shake my head. I know he is not; he is only calling because he doubts me.
I answered, lifting the phone. Carson’s face filled the screen, dim lights behind him, music thumping faintly wherever he was. I guess he is at a club.
“Say that again,” he said immediately, I grinned.
“I’m at a mafia gathering in Italy.”
His jaw tightened. “You’re joking.”
Instead of answering, I flipped the camera around. The glittering hall. The chandeliers. Armed men in tailored suits. The low hum of dangerous laughter. Then I swung it back to Shannon, who waved dramatically. “Hi, Uncle Carson!” she sang.
Carson stared at the screen in disbelief. “Elena.”
“Yes?”
“I’m coming.”
I burst out laughing. “I thought you were partying somewhere.” He exhaled sharply, already moving. The camera shifted as he walked.
“Long story,” he muttered. “I’ll tell you when I get there.”
“There?” I teased. “You don’t even know where I am.”
“Send me the location.” His tone had changed. Protective, and serious. I felt warmth bloom in my chest.
“You worry too much,” I said softly.
“And you,” he replied, eyes darkening slightly, “don’t get to say ‘mafia gathering’ so casually.”
Shannon leaned into the frame again. “Relax, Uncle Carson. She is safe, and Uncle Valkor is here.”
“Really?” he asked and Shannon nodded while giggling.
"Yes, so you see, we are safe, who could be stronger then uncle valkor?" Shannon tease, I can't believe Shannon, she had so much trust in my father.
"I know but I think brother might need an additional hand." I smiled, flipping my hair over my shoulder.
“I’m not a baby,” I reminded him. He gave me that familiar look, the one that said he would always see me as the little girl who used to cling to his arm.
“We’ll discuss that when I get there.” The call ended.
Shannon nudged me. “He is really coming, isn’t he?” I slipped my phone into my clutch, heart oddly full.
“Yes.” She shrugged, sipping her juice as her gaze drifted toward the crowd. I smiled to myself. Carson wasn’t just coming because of me. He was coming because of her.
He and Shannon were close, he was only two years older than her. They bonded easily. She saw him as a brother. But I knew my little uncle. He didn’t see her as a sister. He had turned down countless women for her. Slowly abandoned that reckless Playboy lifestyle. Changed quietly, without Shannon even realizing he wanted more than just friendship. I leaned toward her and mouthed silently, “He is coming because of you.”
Her eyes snapped to mine. “What?”