CHAPTER 6

Alessandra's POV

My hand pressed against the cold mahogany wall as the sound of Lucia’s heels faded down the grand staircase.

I stood there, completely frozen, trying to get my breathing under control. The spot on my jaw where Vincenzo’s thumb had rested still tingled, a warm contrast to the freezing draft of the hallway. My heart was pounding so hard against my ribs I could hear it in my ears.

She saw us. I knew she did.

Even though Vincenzo had stepped back instantly, the sharp, calculating look Lucia gave me before she wrapped her arm around his was enough to make my stomach churn. She didn't see me as a threat—not yet, anyway. To her, I was just a nameless, dirty maid who had stepped out of line. But a woman like Lucia didn't tolerate anything out of place in her path. Especially not when it came to the man she was set to marry.

I needed to move. Standing outside the young master's bedroom with a flushed face and trembling hands was a quick way to get fired.

I hurried down the back stairs, my sensible work shoes squeaking against the wood. When I reached the kitchen, the air was thick with the scent of roasted garlic and expensive spices. The chefs were busy preparing a private dinner for the syndicate elders who were staying on the estate.

"Alessa! Over here," a hushed voice called out.

I turned to see Mina, one of the younger laundry maids, gesturing to me from the corner of the pantry. She was holding a stack of fresh, ironed linens.

"I heard Mrs. Gable put you on nanny duty today," Mina whispered, her eyes wide with curiosity. "How did it go? Is the young master as difficult as they say?"

I forced a small, tired smile and reached for a dry cloth to start wiping down the spare prep table. "He’s actually very sweet. Just quiet."

"You're lucky," Mina said, leaning closer. "The last nanny lasted only two weeks because she couldn't handle his silence. But be careful, Alessa. I saw Miss Lucia arrive earlier. She’s already throwing a fit about the flower arrangements in the main parlor. If she catches you anywhere near the family wing looking like... well, like you’re not working, she’ll have Mrs. Gable throw your bags out the gate before you can even explain."

"I was just doing what Mrs. Gable told me to do," I said quietly, keeping my head down as I scrubbed the clean stainless steel.

"I know, but women like her don't care about rules," Mina sighed, adjusting the heavy stack of sheets in her arms. "They just care about control. She already acts like she owns the place. Honestly, we’re all praying the Don stalls the wedding as long as possible."

Mina waved goodbye and headed back to the laundry rooms, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Her words hung heavily in the air. *Control.* That was exactly what Lucia wanted. She didn't care about Leo, and she certainly didn't care about the staff. She just wanted the power that came with being Mrs. Rossi.

By the time evening rolled around, the storm outside had settled into a quiet, steady drizzle. Mrs. Gable found me in the kitchen again, checking her clipboard with her usual stern expression.

"The nanny is still confined to her room with a fever," Mrs. Gable announced. "You’ll need to bring the young master’s dinner up and tuck him in. Once he’s asleep, you are to return to your regular duties in the west wing. Do not linger."

"Yes, Mrs. Gable," I replied.

My chest felt lighter as I carried the small tray up the stairs. Leo’s dinner was simple—grilled chicken breast, mashed potatoes, and a small cup of warm milk. When I pushed the door to his room open, he was sitting at his small wooden desk, drawing with crayons.

"Alessa!" He bounced up from his chair, a bright grin breaking across his face.

"Hey, little captain," I said, setting the tray down on his table. "I brought you some fuel. You have to eat everything so we can keep playing tomorrow."

Leo scrambled onto his chair, eagerly picking up his fork. I sat on the small stool next to him, watching him eat. Every little movement he made—the way he chewed carefully, the way he tilted his head when he was thinking—reminded me so much of myself when I was a child. But his eyes were all Vincenzo.

"Are you going to stay here forever?" Leo asked suddenly, a small piece of chicken hovering near his mouth.

The question caught me completely off guard. I felt a familiar, sharp ache in my throat, and I had to swallow hard to keep my voice steady. "I’m here to help clean and look after you for now, Leo."

"I like you better than the other nannies," he said simply, popping the chicken into his mouth. "They don't like my train tracks. And they don't talk to me."

"Then I’ll make sure to talk to you as much as I can," I promised, reaching out to gently squeeze his small, warm hand.

After he finished his dinner, I helped him brush his teeth and tucked him into his large, plush bed. I pulled the heavy blankets up to his chin, smoothing his hair until his eyelids grew heavy and finally closed. I stayed beside him for another ten minutes in the quiet, dim room, listening to the soft, even sound of his breathing.

But I couldn't stay forever.

I picked up the empty tray and slipped out of his room, closing the door with a quiet click. The hallway was dark now, lit only by the faint wall sconces. I made my way down to the grand foyer to finish my late-night dusting of the banisters.

Around midnight, the heavy front doors of the mansion creaked open.

I quickly stepped back into the shadow of the massive stone pillar near the staircase, holding my duster against my apron.

Vincenzo walked in, looking incredibly exhausted. His tie was loosened, and his black hair was slightly damp from the rain. Lucia was right beside him, her fingers still tightly wrapped around his arm, her heels clicking loudly against the marble floor.

"It was a tedious event," Lucia complained, her voice echoing in the empty foyer. "But at least the Council saw us together. We need to set a date for the wedding soon, Vincenzo. My father is getting impatient."

Vincenzo stopped at the base of the stairs. He gently but firmly pulled his arm away from her grip, his expression entirely blank. "I told you, Lucia. I will handle the Council. Go to your room. It’s late."

Lucia looked irritated, but she didn't argue. She gave a stiff nod and began walking up the stairs, the rustle of her designer dress loud in the quiet house.

Vincenzo stayed at the bottom of the staircase, his head tilted back as he closed his eyes for a brief second. Then, slowly, as if he knew exactly where I was hiding, his head turned. His piercing gray eyes locked onto me through the dim light of the foyer.

He didn't say a word. He didn't move toward me. He just stood there, watching me from the bottom of the stairs, his chest rising and falling in a slow, heavy breath.

After a long, silent moment, he turned and followed Lucia up the steps.