I froze and looked up at him.
"Leave New York. Leave America." His eyes were absolutely determined. "Go somewhere he can't find you."
"What?" I didn't understand.
"You said he offered you an apartment and trust fund, wants to keep seeing you." Marco's expression was serious. "Men like that don't let go easily. If he's making offers like that, it means he still wants to control you. With that Russian's status and wealth, if he really wants to find you, you can't hide anywhere in New York. And..." He paused. "I know how these people operate. To them, if they can't have something, they destroy it. You rejected him—he might not just let this go."
My heart sank. Yes, Igor wasn't ordinary. The double-headed eagle tattoo on his chest, his mysterious identity, his massive wealth. It all reminded me he was Bratva. I never thought I'd get tangled up with such a dangerous world.
"Where would I go?" My mind went blank. Where could I go if I left New York? I had no family. Except for this childhood friend sitting next to me, I had nothing.
"Italy." He looked at me. "I'm planning to bring my grandmother too. She's always liked you, remember? You used to say you wanted to see the sunflower fields in Tuscany."
My heart skipped a beat. Tuscany's sunflower fields—my impossible childhood dream.
"But wouldn't that be too much trouble for you..."
"Not at all." He answered calmly. "I worked for Cosa Nostra for afew years, paid off all my father's debts. I'm free now, and I've saved enough money for us to start fresh."
I stared at him in shock. Cosa Nostra. Italian Mafia. I knew Marco's background was complicated—his father was a gambler who got beaten to death, and his mother remarried. His grandmother raised him. I never imagined he'd been pulled into that world, too.
"That was so dangerous..."
"Yes, which is why I left the organization to stay alive. But as the Don's former doctor, I built some connections in Cosa Nostra over the years. I can protect you." Those warm brown eyes held a depth I couldn't read. "Elena, come with me. I can get you a new identity, make sure he never finds you. Italy is Cosa Nostra territory—Bratva power doesn't reach far there."
His offer tempted me. Leave. Yes, I had to leave. I couldn't spend another second in this city where every corner reminded me of Igor and his betrayal. And knowing Igor's personality, if he wasn't done playing with me, he might not let me go easily.
"I'll do it. I'll go to Italy with you." I grabbed onto this lifeline. "Your grandmother's getting older. I can help you take care of her."
I needed a reason to convince myself to accept his help. I didn't want him to think I was a burden.
Marco's mouth curved into a bitter smile as he gently squeezed my hand. "Good. My grandmother will be so happy."
After deciding, I had Marco drive me back to my apartment.
"I'm going up to pack," I told Marco.
"I'll come with you."
"No." I shook my head. "I want to be alone for a bit."
Marco looked at me, hesitated, then finally nodded. "Okay, I'll wait downstairs. Don't be scared, Elena. Everything's going to be okay."
I got out of the car and walked into the apartment building. The hallway lights flickered on and off. I unlocked my door with my key—the room was pitch black. In the faint light from the window, I surveyed this tiny space filled with memories of Igor and me.
I turned on the lights. Under the harsh fluorescent glow, everything connected to him became painfully clear. His carkeys on the couch, the anniversary gift I'd prepared on the table—that leather wallet I'd hand-sewn with his initials embroidered on it.
My heart clenched again.
I dragged my old suitcase out from under the bed and started packing. There wasn't much to take—a few changes of clothes, my design books, and the only photo I had of my parents.
I didn't touch a single thing Igor had given me. Those expensive dresses—I folded them neatly and left them in the corner of the closet. The bracelet and earrings his assistant had delivered—I placed them together on the vanity.
Finally, my eyes fell on that wallet. I walked over and picked it up, my fingertips tracing the "I.V." I'd embroidered stitch by stitch. I'd imagined his surprised, delighted expression when he received this gift countless times. How ridiculous that seemed now.
I unzipped my suitcase, about to throw it in, but my hand froze mid-air. There was no point taking it now. I set it on the nightstand, right next to those expensive jewels.
After finishing, I wheeled my suitcase to the entrance and took one last look at this place that held six months of memories with Igor, then turned and left without looking back.
