The cold marble dug into my knees as I scrubbed the fountain for what felt like the hundredth time that morning. My hands stung, raw from the harsh chemicals Valeria forced me to use, and the cloth I gripped soaked through, leaving faint red marks on my skin. Every muscle in my body ached, my back stiff from bending over the stone, and yet I forced myself to continue. Mistakes weren't allowed, not here. Mistakes brought correction, humiliation, or worse.
Italy didn't feel real yet.
Nothing here did.
The estate was too big. Too quiet. Too heavy.
And I was too small inside it.
I kept my head down as I scrubbed the edge of the fountain, focusing on the circular motion Valeria had shown me. If I moved too slow, she snapped. If I moved too fast, she corrected me.
So I tried to be invisible.
That was when I felt it.
That feeling.
Like someone was watching me.
My hand paused mid-motion before I could stop it.
Slowly, I looked up.
And my heart stopped.
Ace.
The sunlight hit him just right. His suit clung to his broad shoulders, the cut perfect, the collar crisp. His posture was flawless, a natural authority that made the courtyard seem smaller, as if the stone itself yielded to him. He didn't rush. He didn't look around. He simply walked, and the world made space for him.
Our eyes met.
Hazel eyes. Sharp, unyielding, assessing.
A shiver ran down my spine. Fear prickled in every nerve, but there was something else, something I wasn't meant to feel. My chest tightened, my pulse spiked, and my cheeks flushed despite the cold morning. I looked away, too late to undo the moment, feeling foolish and exposed.
He was terrifying. Merciless. Deadly. Yet… my gaze lingered, drawn to the sharp lines of his jaw, the shadow of stubble, the way his full lips pressed into a straight line, commanding, serious. His hair was perfectly dark, soft yet immaculately groomed, and the faint scent of cologne reached me even from where I knelt.
And his hands.
Strong, long fingers, capable of violence, capable of control. Veins slightly raised, knuckles firm, unflinching. The hands that had taken life without hesitation were the same hands that could touch, could command, could… dominate.
I looked away. Quickly.
But I could still feel him.
Every step he took, every turn of his head, pressed against my mind.
I hated myself for noticing. I hated the warmth rising in my chest, the ridiculous flutter in my stomach.
He didn't speak. He didn't smile. He walked past me.
And yet, the air seemed heavier where he had passed, and my knees shook.
Later that afternoon, I was carrying folded linens through the main hall when one of the guards stepped into my path.
He was taller than most of them. Broad shoulders. A scar near his jaw.
He smiled.
But something about it didn't feel kind.
"Americana," he said in accented English.
I froze.
"I—I don't understand Italian very well yet," I said softly.
His smile widened.
"I can teach you."
The way he said it made my stomach twist.
"I have work," I whispered.
He stepped closer.
Too close.
"You look scared all the time," he said quietly. "Don't be. We are not monsters."
Not monsters?
I had seen what they did. I had seen what Ace did. I had seen what they were capable of.
My fingers tightened around the linens.
"You are pretty when you're scared," he added.
My chest tightened.
Before I could respond, another guard called his name from down the corridor. He stepped back, smirking.
"We will talk later."
I didn't breathe properly again until he walked away. My hands were shaking.
That evening, I saw her.
Angela.
I was polishing the lower railings when I heard heels against stone.
When I looked up, she was walking beside Ace.
She was beautiful.
Not just pretty.
Beautiful.
Confident. Elegant. Like she belonged in those expensive dresses and high heels and marble halls.
She didn't look afraid of him.
She looked… comfortable.
I didn't.
When her eyes met mine, I felt exposed.
She didn't glare at me.
She didn't insult me.
She just looked at me.
Like she was measuring something.
I lowered my gaze quickly.
I suddenly became aware of how plain I must look.
My uniform.
My tied-back hair.
My red hands.
She probably thought I was nothing.
She was right.
That night, I couldn't sleep.
My room in the maid quarters felt small. The window barely opened. I missed home.
Even if home didn't love me the way it should have.
I missed my brother.
If he were alive, none of this would have happened.
He would have protected me.
I slipped out of my room quietly and walked down the corridor toward the kitchen for water.
That's when I heard voices outside.
Low.
Pleading.
Curious and stupid, I stepped toward the archway leading to the lower garden.
And then I saw it.
A man on his knees.
Crying.
Begging.
And Ace standing in front of him.
Calm.
Still.
Then the gunshot.
The sound echoed in my ears.
The man fell.
Blood spread across gravel like it belonged there.
My body went cold.
My hands started shaking before I realized it.
Then
Ace turned.
His eyes found mine immediately.
For a second, we just stared at each other.
I couldn't breathe.
He walked toward me slowly.
Every step felt deliberate.
I tried to step back but hit the wall behind me.
"You shouldn't be here," he said.
His voice wasn't loud.
It was controlled.
That made it worse.
"I— I didn't know," I whispered.
A tear slid down my cheek.
Humiliating.
Weak.
He stepped closer.
Close enough that I could see the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw.
Close enough to notice how steady his breathing was.
His hands.
I noticed his hands.
Strong. Veins visible beneath his skin. Steady.
Those were the hands that just pulled the trigger.
Why did my skin feel hot under his gaze?
"This is not your country," he said quietly. "You don't wander at night."
I nodded quickly.
"I'm sorry."
His eyes stayed on mine for a second longer than necessary.
And in that moment
I felt it again.
That strange, confusing warmth beneath the fear.
Like electricity crawling along my spine.
I hated it.
I hated myself for it.
The next day, I confided in Salish while we folded laundry in the back room.
She was the only person here who had been kind to me.
"How did you get here?" she asked softly.
"My parents owed him money," I said quietly.
"How much?"
"Five million."
Her eyes widened.
"For what?"
"My sister was sick."
I swallowed.
"They loved her more."
Salish didn't speak for a moment.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
I shrugged, pretending it didn't hurt.
"They said it was temporary."
"And you believed them?"
I hesitated.
"I wanted to."
Salish touched my arm gently.
"You have to be careful here," she warned. "Especially with the guards."
My stomach dropped.
"Why?"
She glanced toward the door.
"Some of them forget that maids are not property."
My heart started beating faster.
"I'll be careful," I whispered.
But I didn't feel safe.
That night, I stayed in the main hall later than usual.
Valeria had assigned extra cleaning.
By the time I finished, the estate was quiet.
Too quiet.
I walked quickly toward the maid quarters, hugging my arms around myself.
I could feel it again.
That sensation of being watched.
My steps quickened.
Then
A hand grabbed my wrist.
I gasped.
The same guard from before stood in the shadowed corridor.
"Why are you so scared?" he murmured.
"I have to go," I whispered.
He stepped closer.
"You are always running."
His hand slid from my wrist to my waist.
My body froze.
"I don't like that," I said softly.
"Relax," he murmured. "You should smile more."
I couldn't.
I couldn't move.
I couldn't breathe properly.
And that was where it ended.
The darkness pressed in around us, the corridor empty except for his weight and mine, and I realized I was utterly, hopelessly trapped.