I straightened my clothes and forced myself to perk up. Whatever was happening, work had to continue. I couldn't let that mysterious stalker destroy everything I'd worked so hard to build.
A few minutes later, the doorbell rang. Anna went to answer it, bringing in a middle-aged man wearing an expensive Italian-tailored suit. He was about fifty, hair combed perfectly, shoes polished to a shine, radiating successful businessman energy.
"Ms. Jensen?" The man extended his hand with a proper, warm smile, showing perfect white teeth. "I'm Antonio, purchasing director for Aurora Jewels in Milan. I've heard so much about you."
I stood up and quickly shook his hand. "Hello."
"I've seen your latest collection." He got straight to the point. "Excellent work. We'd like to collaborate on next season's high-end jewelry line. We need a batch of unique designs."
My heart raced. Aurora Jewels was one of Italy's top brands. Collaborating with them would be a huge breakthrough for my career.
"Of course, I'd be honored." I tried to look more professional. "Please sit. Let's discuss details."
For the next hour, we talked about design direction, quantities, timelines. Antonio praised my work effusively and placed an order on the spot.
"We'll advance fifty percent as deposit." He stood up and shook my hand again. "Looking forward to our collaboration, Ms. Jensen."
"Me too." I smiled as I saw him out.
After the door closed, Anna screamed: "Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God! Elena! Do you know what this means? Aurora Jewels! This is Aurora Jewels!"
"I know." I couldn't help smiling, too.
This was a big breakthrough. With this collaboration, my brand would rise to a new level.
I could give Stella a better life, better education, a better future.
Chapter Fourteen
Elena
At ten in the morning, I opened my work email as usual. The buyer from Milan had just placed a big order—I needed to confirm production progress, and three design drafts were waiting for final approval. My fingers tapped lightly on the mouse, scanning through the email subjects.
Then I spotted the one with no subject line. The sender was a jumble of garbled characters. I was about to hit delete—spam like that was nothing new. But my hand slipped and clicked it open.
The first sentence froze my blood.
"I can smell you, Elena, even through the screen."
Cold sweat slid down my spine.
"I can picture you sitting there, baby, I can imagine your body under that beige sweater... your body belongs to me. I know that little mole under your left breast, I know the curve of your spine when you arch your back. I wonder if you're wearing panties right now."
I jerked my head up, scanning the studio interior. No obvious spots for a hidden camera.
The email went on, "I imagine ripping that fabric off you, bendingyou over the desk, fucking you from behind until you cry and beg, until the office reeks of you. I want to hear you scream my name."
Nausea hit hard, but I forced it down, swallowing the urge to puke.
"I'll shoot my cum into your womb, make you pregnant with my kids, one after another."
My lungs seized up.
But I couldn't break down now. Work was waiting. Milan needed a reply on the new line—today, or the whole schedule would slip.
It was just a prank. Had to be. I told myself that, fingers shaking as I closed the email. Deep breath. Opened the client's message and started typing.
Focus on work, Elena. Don't think about that sick shit.
