His Infamous Wife

I wiped down the surfaces again even though they were already clean, adjusted the bed sheets, checked corners I didn’t need to check. I didn’t know what I was trying to prove. Probably just that I wasn’t careless.

  When I was done, I stepped out and closed the door behind me.

  I adjusted my sleeves and started walking back downstairs. 

  That was when I saw her.

  At first, I didn’t register who she was. She was standing near the bottom of the stairs, one hand lightly resting on the railing, the other holding a glass of wine. 

  Then I noticed Ken standing a few feet away, not speaking, just watching her like he was waiting for permission to breathe. 

  And then I saw her clearly. 

  It was Amelia Solis.

  I stopped walking without meaning to.

  When she finally lifted her eyes, it felt like she had been aware of me the entire time and simply decided I wasn’t worth acknowledging sooner. 

  Typical Solis behavior. 

  Her expression didn’t change. “You’re the new cleaner,” she said.

  Her voice was soft. If not for the man she married I would’ve assumed she was trying to flirt with me. 

  “Yes,” I answered.

  “You’re late,” she said after a pause.

  I blinked slightly. “Late?”

  “For the kitchen floor. It wasn’t wiped properly this morning.”

  I didn’t even know she checked.

  “I cleaned the assigned rooms,” I said carefully.

  She looked at me for a second longer, then she took a sip of her water.

  “I didn’t say you didn’t,” she replied.

  I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say after that, so I didn’t say anything.

  Ken cleared his throat slightly beside her.

  “Mrs Solis,” he said. 

  She didn’t look at him.

  “I know,” she said.

  That ended whatever he was about to say.

  She finally started walking, slowly moving toward the living room area. I instinctively stepped aside to let her pass.

  She stopped near me, close enough that I could notice details I hadn’t before—her hair tied neatly, her clothes simple but also very visibly expensive. 

  Then she spoke again, still not looking at me directly.

  “Don’t touch anything in my room unless you’re told,” she said.

  “I was told to clean it,” I replied.

  “Clean,” she repeated, “Not rearrange, not fix, not decide what belongs where.”

  “I understand,” I said.

  “Good.”

  And then she walked past me like I had already been dismissed.

  Ken exhaled quietly when she was out of earshot.

  “You’ll get used to her,” he said.

  I looked at him.

  “That wasn’t exactly reassuring.”

  He gave a small shrug.

  “It wasn’t meant to be.”

  “Is she always like that?” I asked.

  “She doesn’t involve herself much,” he said. “But when she does, she notices everything.”

  “Doesn’t sound too bad.”

  “It is,” he said simply.

  “I worked directly with her husband for two years, I think I'll be fine.” 

  I looked toward the direction she walked in, then back at him.

  “She doesn’t act like she lives here,” I said.

  Ken didn’t disagree.

  “She’s rarely around,” he replied instead.

  I didn’t ask anything else. 

  Honestly, I didn’t want to know.

  The kitchen was already active when I got there.

  Pete looked up and raised his hand slightly when he saw me.

  “You survived cleaning duty,” he said.

  “Somehow, yes,” I replied.

  That made him laugh a little.

  I poured myself water and leaned slightly against the counter. My body felt slower than usual, like I was still adjusting to the weight of everything I had done since morning.

  Pete watched me for a second.

  “You met her, didn’t you?” he asked.

  I knew immediately who he meant.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Don’t take it personally.”

  “I didn’t.”

  That wasn’t entirely true.

  Pete didn’t push further.

  Instead, he went back to what he was doing, humming lightly. 

  I stayed where I was, still holding my glass of water when it suddenly felt like the air shifted.

  I stepped aside instinctively when I saw him, giving him space even though he hadn’t asked for it.

  He opened one of the cabinets, reached in, then closed it again like whatever he was looking for wasn’t there.

  I didn’t realize how close I was standing until I shifted slightly to move out of his way.

  That was when it happened.

  My elbow hit the glass.

  Water spilled, straight onto him.

  Time didn’t slow down….it stopped.

  The glass slipped from my hand and hit the counter, tipping over completely as the rest of the water followed. My chest tightened immediately, my mind going blank before the panic rushed in all at once.

  “I’m sorry—”

  I didn’t even wait for a response. My hands moved on their own, reaching for him, trying to fix what I had just done.

  “I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

  I grabbed the edge of his shirt, trying to wipe it off like that would do anything. My fingers pressed against the fabric, moving quickly, too quickly.

  And then I felt it. 

  His solid, perfectly lined abs, 

  Through the damp shirt.

  My hands paused for half a second.

  That was all it took.

  My brain caught up with what I was doing, and somehow that made it worse.

  Dante grabbed my wrist and shoved it away from him.

  Not violently.

  But firm enough to make me step back.

  “Are you slow?” he asked.

  His voice wasn’t raised.

  That somehow made it worse too.

  “I—I’m sorry,” I said again quickly. “I’ll get it cleaned, I didn’t mean to—”

  He looked down at his shirt briefly, then back at me.

  There was no anger on his face.

  Just irritation.

  “Stay out of my way,” he said.

  That was it, no shouting, no punishment. I was still trying to get used to that. 

  Back at the warehouse where me and the rest of us stayed, I would’ve gotten the beating of my life. 

  He grabbed what he originally came for—a bottle of water this time—and walked out like nothing had happened.

  The moment he left, the tension broke.

  Max let out a breath he had clearly been holding.

  One of the others laughed.

  “Luca,” someone said, shaking their head. “First week and you’re already spilling water on him?”

  “It wasn’t even a full glass,” another added, like that made it better.

  Max turned to me, trying to hide his smile.

  “You’re lucky he didn’t react,” he said.

  “I know,” I muttered.

  They laughed again. 

  I forced a small smile, even let out a short breath that could pass as a laugh.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Lucky me.”

  But my mind wasn’t there anymore.

  It stayed stuck on that moment.

  On the brief second my hands didn’t move.

  On the fact that I noticed something I shouldn’t have.

  I frowned slightly, looking down at my hands like they had betrayed me.

  Why was that the thing I remembered?

  Out of everything that just happened.

  I exhaled slowly and shook my head.

  It didn’t matter, it shouldn’t matter….but somehow it did. 

  I grabbed a cloth from the counter and wiped the water I had spilled, focusing on that instead.

  “Relax,” Max said, nudging my shoulder lightly as he passed. “You’re still alive. That’s already a good sign.”

  “I know,” I said again.

  But this time, my voice was quieter.

  Because I wasn’t thinking about Dante’s merciful acts anymore.

  And I didn’t like what my mind had replaced it with.