Page 28 of Married to the Ruthless Mafia Heir

I went back to the bedroom, questions swirling. Elena was in the shower. I paced the room. The walk-in closet and vanity were piled with things—designer brands, haute couture pieces you couldn't even buy in stores, reserved only for the most elite families.

But all of it was untouched. She hadn't worn a single dress. Hadn't put on a single piece of jewelry.

The bathroom door opened. I turned. Elena stood there in just a towel, her wet hair wrapped loosely in a hair cap. Her expression was stunned. "Dante, you're back?"

She wore nothing but that towel and her wedding ring. She looked almost bare. The towel wasn't even tied properly—it barely covered what it needed to. I noticed her flustered expression but didn't look away. I walked toward her.

The closer I got, the clearer she became. Defined collarbones. Full shoulders. A slender neck, almost glowing white. Two long legs pressed together nervously. Even her toes curled.

Elena looked shy or panicked—I couldn't tell which. She backed up. I raised my hand. She suddenly squeezed her eyes shut, her upper body shrinking back defensively, like I was about to slap her.

Was she out of her mind?

I pulled a strand of hair from her mouth, my tone annoyed. "Why are you such a mess? Your hair's all over the place."

She slowly opened her eyes, realizing she'd misread me. Her face flushed red. "I thought you weren't coming back, so I didn't really... fix myself up."

"I'm just here to grab a file. Then I'm leaving." I watched her expression. When she heard I was leaving, disappointment flickered across her face. I couldn't help smirking. "What, hoping I'd stay? Make a baby with you?"

The words came out sounding crude. I watched her reaction—from embarrassed to hesitant to determined. She met my eyes. "Can we?"

God, she was adorable. I laughed and tapped her forehead. "No!"

She winced, covering her head. "What file do you need? I can help you find it."

"An old one. A shopping center design proposal with architectural blueprints." I knew exactly where it was, but watching her so eager to help—I wanted to mess with her.

Elena tightened the towel, securing it at her chest, and stood on her toes searching the bookshelf. Her bare arms moved across the dark wood. The contrast—black shelves, white skin—was intoxicating.

I felt my body starting to react. I coughed and grabbed the file. "Found it."

Elena looked at me, surprised. "Oh. Good."

Her hands clutched at her chest, barely covering herself. Honestly, she looked more tempting now than when she'd kissed me that first time.

"Get some sleep. I'm heading back to Manhattan."

I tore my gaze away and got the hell out of that room before I lost control.

Out in the garden, the cool night air calmed the heat building inside me. Marco came up. "Thought we were staying at the manor?"

"Back to the apartment." My moods were all over the place. Marco was used to it by now. We headed back toward Manhattan.

In the car, I told Marco to look into Elena's family. "Focus on debts, enemies, anything like that. I think Salvador's holding something over her. That's why she's going along with this."

Marco paused. "Didn't Mr. Morreti already give you a file?"

"I want the real story, not whatever Salvador fed me." I cut him off. "Her parents—what they do, if she has siblings, where she grew up, why she came to work at the manor. Check everything."

Marco glanced at me in the rearview mirror. "You think Salvador's file is fake?"

"I think everything that goes through Salvador's hands is fake," I said. "He's hiding something critical. Dig deep. Make sure the information's real."

Marco nodded. "Got it. When do you need it?"

"As soon as possible."

Marco's hands tightened on the wheel. "Dante, we're stretched thin. The guys looking for Valentina in Mexico haven'tcome back yet. If I'm checking into Elena now, which is more important—her or finding Valentina?"