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Chapter Twenty-Three
Elena
It’s midday and I’m strolling through the bright streets of Mykonos, Greece. Over the last few weeks I’ve taken time for myself, which I haven’t done in . . . far too long. I picked Mykonos because the city is known for it’s beautiful scenery and welcoming arms. In my time here I haven’t met kinder people in all of my life.
The buildings are a matte white, with a cerulean blue painted on the porches, railings and doors. Whenever you see photographs of Greece, this is what you expect —this style. Glancing down at the gray and white stone streets I smile to myself, feeling lighter than I ever have. I’m wearing a deep garnet red chiffon dress, and it blows with every gust of wind, but I don’t mind. It’s refreshing in it’s own way.
I continue forward and go until I reach the small family owned bed and breakfast I’ve been staying at. The couple that owns this is in their mid-thirties with two small children. I should add they’re curious kids, always asking questions. At this point, I’ve given them a kid-friendly version of my life story.
No one is at the small counter they have positioned in the front, so I walk through the archway and go out into their courtyard which divvies up the multiple units they have here. I chose one on the west side so I could be back to see the sunset every day.
I grab a wine glass from the counter of the bar in the room, and pull out the white wine I purchased at the market earlier this week. Within a minute, I’ve popped the cork and have poured myself a glass, heading out to the porch.
My view is magnificent, overlooking the deep blue sea, and watching it change color as the sun begins to set. A coral hue covers the vast ocean, sand and even the hotel I sit in. Bringing the dry wine to my lips I take a sip and revel in the happiness I’ve found for myself.
When I left London I felt defeated—like I’d lost. Yes, we might’ve stopped the bombs from going off, but I don’t mean in that sense. When it comes to saving innocent lives we were successful, minus the capture of Galina, because she slipped away from Stefan’s men. Although, Luca was able to get Ivana . . . something I still haven’t fully processed.
In all honesty, I feel as though I lost Luca, someone who isn’t perfect but is just as flawed as I am, if not more. Let’s be real, he’s a fucking mess . . . although, he’s a mess that I’ve learned to grow and understand over my time with him. A monster of a man that’s shown me his kindness, and even though it was rare, it was just enough to open my heart to him.
I bring the wine to my lips and take another sip, enjoying the tastes of lemon, white peach and I think even a bit of apple as I swallow. I’ve always enjoyed alcohol, but as I’ve been here, I’ve learned to accompany food dishes with the perfect wine pairing. For instance, with beef I prefer a dark, dry red because it compliments it. Or if I’m eating something chocolate, I prefer the same. However, if I’m eating fish I’d rather have a sweeter white wine over the dry wine I’m drinking right now.
I’m pulled out of my thoughts as my phone starts to ring from inside my room. For a moment I debate on whether or not I’m going to get it, but I end up leaving the beautiful sunset to see whoever it is that’s calling me. I’ve barely had any contact with anyone from the outside world. That is, unless they’re in Greece.
“Hello?” I answer, not looking at the caller ID.
“Miss Elena, it’s Migual.” He didn’t have to state his name. I’d recognize it after being in the Ungur estate for so long.
“Migual . . . I’m shocked you’re calling me. Is everything okay?” If he’s calling, something must’ve happened.
“I . . . I wish I could say it is, but it isn’t. I’m risking everything by even being on the phone with you, but, in my heart I feel as though you are the woman of the house. You are married to Luca, and therefore you are my boss too, in a way.”
I’ve never heard Migual sound so . . . worried. It only further confirms for me that something has happened. “What’s going on, Migual?”
“There’s been an incident, Miss Elena. One that I believe requires you to come home.”Home?
“I was kicked out from my home by my husband, or do you not recall that day.” I state, seething with anger. My frustration isn’t directed at Migual of course, but Luca.
“I know Miss Elena, and I’m terribly sorry for what transpired that day . . . but I think you need to come home.”
“Why do I need to come home? Luca has his plaything Ivana to be fucking around with.” I retort.
I wait for some sort of response, but nothing is said for far too long.
“What happened, Migual?” I question him, wanting him to just spit it out and let me know what I might be walking into.
“Ivana is here . . . but, she’s um . . . indisposed at the moment.”
I can read through the lines very clearly. “Fuck, I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
* * *
I was able to make it back to Luca’s home in a mere three hours. Migual had called to let me know he charted a helicopter to bring me back home, and gave me a location to meet it at in Mykonos. So, I had quickly gathered up my belongings and said my goodbyes to the lovely couple who so graciously allowed me to stay.
Now, I’m standing in front of the double doors of the Ungur estate, determined to walk through those doors with the most confidence I’ve ever had in my entire fucking life. Placing one foot in front of the other, I begin to walk into myhomeas Migual called it. After I open the door I go to the one place my gut is telling me I need to —theoubliette.
Heading down the stairwell, I ensure to keep the thick skin I consider as body armor and prepare for anything. Once I hit the bottom step, I look up to see the iron door is open and in it lies the lifeless body of Ivana, laying in a pool of blood. But she doesn’t look like herself.
I approach her body slowly, seeing how her hair was dyed from her natural blonde to my exact shade. Her lips are bigger, which indicates Luca had her get fillers . . . but why? To make them more voluminous like mine? It doesn’t make sense, not when he’s so infatuated with Mariana. That’s the woman he’s obsessed with and loves more than anyone else.
