Chapter 2 - THE SHADOWS OF THE MORETTI ESTATEThe servants' wing was drafty, smelling of damp stone and stale tea, but it had been Clara’s safe haven for six days. Now, as she packed her few worn dresses into a canvas suitcase, the reality of Matteo Moretti's command crashed down on her.
“As of tonight, your job description has changed.”
She wasn't just a maid anymore. She was Bruno's personal handler and canine rehabilitation specialist—a position that didn't exist until Matteo invented it on the spot. But everyone in the sprawling, gothic estate knew what it really meant: she was tethered directly to the mafia boss. And in a world built on blood, betrayal, and shifting alliances, being noticed by Matteo Moretti was a death sentence.
A sharp knock rattled her wooden door before it swung open. Bianca Russo stood in the frame, draped in a cream cashmere coat, her expression a toxic mix of condescension and suppressed fury.
"Leaving so soon, little maid?" Bianca sneered, stepping into the cramped room without an invitation. "Or did Matteo promote you to something more... horizontal?"
Clara zipped her bag and stood up, her eyes cold. "If you have something to say to me, Bianca, say it plainly. I'm too tired for high-society games."
Bianca stepped closer, her manicured nails digging into the edge of Clara’s table. "Listen to me very carefully, domestic. Matteo Moretti is not a man you play house with. The dogs he keeps—four-legged and two-legged—end up buried in the forest when they outlive their usefulness. You think you're special because you dried a wet dog? You're a novelty. A toy he'll throw away before the first snow melts."
"Then you have nothing to worry about, do you?" Clara replied evenly, her voice devoid of fear. "If I'm just a temporary distraction, why are you standing in my freezing room looking like you're about to lose your mind?"
Bianca's face flushed with genuine rage. She raised her hand to strike Clara across the face, but before her fingers could connect, a heavy, shadow-casting presence filled the doorway.
"I would keep my hands to myself if I were you, Bianca," Matteo’s voice sliced through the cold air like a razor blade.
Bianca froze, her hand dropping instantly as she spun around, her expression instantly shifting into one of injured innocence. "Matteo, darling. I was just welcoming her to her new quarters. The staff is whispering, you know. Elevating a maid to the inner courtyard—people will talk about your standards."
"Let them talk," Matteo said, stepping past her into the small room. He looked at Clara’s packed bag, then up at her face. "Your new room is in the East Wing, adjacent to the indoor kennel suite. It’s warmer. It has a private bath."
"I have duties in the kitchen—" Clara started.
"Your only duty from now on is Bruno, and reporting directly to me," Matteo interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. He turned his dark gaze back to Bianca. "And as for standards, Bianca, you have outstayed your welcome. My driver is waiting outside to take you back to the city."
Bianca’s breath hitched, humiliation burning bright in her cheeks. "You're sending me away? Because of her?"
"I am sending you away because my patience has an expiration date," Matteo said smoothly, though his eyes were lethal. "Do not test it again."
May you like
As Bianca stormed out of the room, her heels clicking a furious rhythm down the corridor, Matteo turned back to Clara. He reached out, his large, calloused fingers unexpectedly wrapping around the handle of her canvas suitcase.
"Come along, Clara," the mafia boss murmured, a dangerous, magnetic shadow lingering in his gaze. "Let’s show you your new cage."
