Chapter 3 - THE BOSS’S INTERROGATIONThe study was dark, illuminated only by the amber glow of a desk lamp and the crackling fire in the hearth. Matteo Moretti sat in his high-backed leather chair, looking like a predator waiting in the shadows. Bianca lingered near the bookshelf, wearing a smirk that suggested she expected Clara’s immediate dismissal.
"You spent twenty minutes with a dog that has bitten every professional handler in this city," Matteo said, his voice smooth and devoid of warmth. "And he didn't snap. Why?"
Clara kept her chin up, refusing to let her hands tremble. "He wasn't aggressive, Mr. Moretti. He was terrified. There's a difference, though most people choose not to see it."
Matteo leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "And what else did you see while you were playing veterinarian?"
Clara’s breath caught. She thought of the metallic collar buried beneath Bruno’s fur. If she told him she knew, he might think she was a spy. If she lied, he would see right through her.
"I saw an old dog with severe arthritis who hates slippery surfaces," Clara answered carefully, omitting the tracker.
Matteo’s dark eyes narrowed, searching her face for any sign of deception. "You are remarkably observant for someone who supposedly dropped a coffee tray yesterday and tripped over her own shoes."
"Clumsiness and observation aren't mutually exclusive," Clara retorted before she could stop herself.
Bianca scoffed loudly. "Matteo, are you really going to listen to an insolent maid? She’s obviously playing a long game. Girls of her social bracket don't just wander into estates like this by accident."
Matteo raised a single hand, silencing Bianca instantly. He stood up, walking slowly around the desk until he stood just inches from Clara. He was taller than she realized, radiating an intimidating, suffocating authority.
"You are dismissed from regular maid duties, Clara," Matteo said quietly, his gaze locked onto hers. "From now on, your sole responsibility is the maintenance and care of Bruno. You will move your things to the east wing quarters near his kennel."
"Wait—what?" Clara stared at him in disbelief. "I have a room in the staff dormitory. I can't just—"
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"You live where I tell you to live," Matteo interrupted, his voice dropping an octave. "And you don't leave this estate. Effective immediately."
Before Clara could protest, Leo stepped into the room, effectively cutting off any further argument. She had traded a broom for a leash, and the golden cage door had just slammed shut.
