CHAPTER 3

Alessandra's POV

The air in the playroom instantly turned freezing.

I scrambled to my feet so fast my knees hit the edge of the wooden toy shelf. A sharp pain shot up my leg, but I barely felt it. I quickly pushed my thick glasses up the bridge of my nose, keeping my eyes firmly trained on the cream carpet. My heart was beating a frantic, agonizing rhythm against my ribs.

Please don’t let him throw me out. Please.

"Daddy!" Leo’s small voice broke the suffocating silence.

I risked a tiny glance through the corner of my eye. Leo had stood up, clutching the red fire truck tightly against his chest as he looked up at his father. There was no running to hug him, no childish excitement. Even at three years old, Leo seemed to know there was a boundary between him and the formidable man who ruled this house.

Vincenzo didn't look at his son right away. His gray eyes remained fixed on me, heavy and incredibly sharp. He stepped into the room, his movements slow and predatory. He had discarded his suit jacket from yesterday, now wearing a crisp black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing the dark ink of a tattoo peeking out near his wrist.

"What is going on here?" Vincenzo asked, his voice low and level, yet carrying an undeniable authority that made me want to shrink into the floorboards.

"I—I apologize, signore," I stammered, my voice barely a whisper. I squeezed the dirty microfiber cloth in my hand, my knuckles turning white. "The young master dropped his toy. The wheel came off, and I was just... I was just fixing it for him."

"She made it go beep-beep again, Daddy," Leo chimed in, taking a small step toward Vincenzo. "It wasn't broken."

Vincenzo finally shifted his gaze down to his son. The harsh lines of his face softened, but only by a fraction. He reached down and briefly patted Leo’s shoulder. It was a gesture of affection, but it was so restrained, so controlled. It made my chest ache. This little boy needed hugs, not polite gestures.

"Go to the hallway, Leo. Your nanny is waiting outside with your milk," Vincenzo said. His tone wasn't mean, but it left absolutely no room for argument.

Leo looked at me, then at his father, and nodded quietly. He picked up his truck and walked out of the room, his small shoes squeaking against the polished floor.

The moment the heavy double doors clicked shut behind Leo, the silence in the room became deafening. It was just the two of us.

"You," Vincenzo said, stepping closer.

I instinctively took a step back, but my heel hit the toy shelf behind me. I was trapped.

"I told you last night not to let me catch you wandering," he said, his voice dropping to that dangerous, quiet register that made my skin prickle. "And now I find you in my son's playroom, touching him."

"I was only cleaning, signore," I pleaded, finally forcing myself to look up and meet his gaze. I had to look innocent. I had to look like a simple, terrified maid. "The head housekeeper sent me here to dust. I didn't mean to disturb the young master. I was just trying to help."

Vincenzo didn't answer right away. He stood barely two feet away from me, his towering frame completely blocking out the light from the window. He was studying me again, his eyes scanning my face, tracing the frame of my oversized glasses down to my trembling lips.

The silence stretched so long I could hear the grandfather clock ticking in the hallway.

"Who hired you?" he asked abruptly.

"Mrs. Gable, signore," I lied smoothly, though my throat felt incredibly dry. I had used a high-quality fake ID and references that a friend had painstakingly created for me. "Three weeks ago."

"You don't look like a maid," he murmured, his gaze dropping to my hands, which were rough from the cheap cleaning chemicals but still lacked the calluses of someone who had done manual labor her entire life.

My heart did a violent flip. I quickly hid my hands behind my back. "I... I lost my previous job, signore. My family has debts. I needed the work."

That part, at least, wasn't a lie. My family’s debts were the exact reason I had ended up in his bed three years ago, carrying his child for a check that saved my mother’s life.

Vincenzo took another step forward, his chest almost brushing against mine. The scent of rain and expensive cologne enveloped me again, making my head spin. He reached out, his long fingers wrapping around my chin. His grip wasn't painful, but it was firm, forcing my head up so I had no choice but to look directly into his eyes.

"There is something about you," he whispered, his gray eyes searching mine with a dark, intense curiosity. "Something very familiar."

My breath hitched in my throat. I stopped breathing entirely, terrified that even the sound of my exhale would give me away.

"Vincenzo."

A sharp, feminine voice shattered the tension in the room.

The grip on my chin vanished instantly. Vincenzo stepped back, his expression turning cold and distant in a split second.

I turned my head toward the doorway. A tall woman dressed in a stunning, cream-colored designer suit was standing there. Her blonde hair was styled in a perfect, sleek bob, and her emerald-toned eyes scanned the room with utter disdain.

"The elders from the Council are waiting in the study," she said, her voice dripping with high-class arrogance. She didn't even look at me, treating me as if I were a piece of furniture. "We shouldn't keep them waiting."

Vincenzo didn't look back at me. He simply smoothed the cuffs of his black shirt and walked toward her.

"Clean this up and get out," he told me coldly over his shoulder.

I stood frozen in the center of the playroom, my chin still tingling from the warmth of his fingers, as the two of them walked down the hallway together.