CHAPTER 7

Alessandra's POV

I barely slept that night. Every time I closed my eyes, I kept seeing Vincenzo’s intense gray eyes staring at me from the dark foyer. It was like he was trying to look right through my fake glasses, past my cheap maid's uniform, and straight into my secrets.

Morning came too fast. The sun hadn't even cleared the high concrete walls of the estate when my alarm went off. I sat up on my narrow cot in the staff quarters, my head throbbing. I quickly tied my hair back into a tight, neat bun, put on my glasses, and smoothed down my apron. Today was going to be difficult. Lucia was staying in the mansion, and that meant the house would be on high alert.

In the kitchen, the atmosphere was tense. Chef Roberto was furiously chopping herbs, and the junior staff were rushing around carrying silver trays.

"Alessa, thank goodness you're here," Mrs. Gable said, her voice sharp but slightly frantic. "Miss Lucia wants her breakfast served in the sunroom. You take it to her. And make sure the tea is exactly eighty-five degrees. She sent the last cup back because she claimed it tasted burnt."

My heart did a little nervous flutter, but I nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

I loaded the heavy silver tray with a plate of poached eggs on avocado toast, a bowl of fresh berries, and a porcelain teapot. My hands were steady, but my mind was racing. Walking into Lucia’s line of sight was the last thing I wanted to do, but I had no choice.

The sunroom was beautiful, filled with floor-to-ceiling glass windows that looked out over the sprawling, manicured gardens. Lucia was sitting on a white wicker lounger, wearing a silk robe that probably cost more than my entire family's medical debt. She was scrolling through her phone, her manicured nails tapping sharply against the screen.

"Your breakfast, signorina," I said softly, keeping my head bowed as I carefully set the plate and the tea down on the glass table.

She didn't look up immediately. She let me stand there for a few painful seconds before she finally locked her cold, brown eyes on my face.

"You're the one who was looking after Leo yesterday," she said, her voice dripping with disinterest.

"Yes, signorina. Mrs. Gable assigned me because the nanny was ill."

Lucia picked up her teacup, taking a slow sip. Her face twisted slightly, but she didn't send it back. "He’s a difficult child. Stubborn. Just like his father. But Vincenzo is too soft on him. A Rossi heir shouldn't be playing with cheap wooden cars on the floor. He needs to learn discipline."

I kept my eyes glued to the floor, my hands clenched tightly behind my back. My fingernails dug into my palms. Cheap wooden cars? Leo loved those cars. They made him laugh. They made him feel like a normal kid.

"Once Vincenzo and I are married next month, things are going to change around here," Lucia continued, waving a dismissive hand. "I’m already looking into boarding schools in Switzerland. The sooner he learns how to behave like a true gentleman, the better."

Boarding school. Switzerland. He was only three years old. He still cried when the room was too dark. He still needed someone to rub his back to fall asleep. My throat felt tight, a wave of hot, suffocating panic rising in my chest. I wanted to scream at her. I wanted to tell her she would never take my son away.

But I had to stay quiet. I had to play the part of the submissive maid.

"I understand, signorina," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

"You can go," she snapped, already looking back down at her phone. "And tell Mrs. Gable I want my lunch served at exactly noon."

I practically ran out of the sunroom, my chest heaving as I tried to draw in air. The thought of Leo being sent thousands of miles away, isolated and unloved by a woman who clearly despised his existence, made me physically sick. I had to protect him. I had to find a way. But how? I was just a maid with a fake name.

"Alessa."

I gasped, spinning around.

Vincenzo was standing at the end of the corridor. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored dark suit, his tie neatly done, looking every bit the ruthless boss of the Rossi syndicate. But his eyes were tired.

He walked toward me, his heavy steps completely silent on the thick Persian rug. "Why do you look like you’ve just seen a ghost?"

I quickly lowered my gaze, trying to steady my breathing. "I... I was just delivering Miss Lucia's breakfast, signore. I apologize if I startled you."

He stopped a few feet away from me. The hallway was empty, the only sound being the distant murmur of the kitchen staff downstairs.

"Did she say something to you?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

I shook my head. "No, signore. She was very polite."

Vincenzo let out a quiet, cynical breath. "Lucia doesn't know how to be polite to staff, Alessa. Don't lie to me."

I kept my head down, staring at his polished leather shoes. The urge to look up and read his expression was overwhelming, but I forced myself to stay still. "She was just talking about the future, signore. About Leo's education."

I heard him take a step closer. The air suddenly felt warm and heavy, saturated with his scent. "His education?"

"She mentioned... boarding school," I said, the words slipping out before I could stop them. I immediately regretted it. It wasn't my place to comment on his family decisions. "I'm sorry. It's not my business."

Suddenly, Vincenzo's hand reached out, his fingers gently but firmly wrapping around my chin. He tilted my face up, forcing me to look into his gray eyes. His touch was warm, sending a jolt of electricity straight down my spine.

"Look at me," he commanded softly.

My heart hammered against my chest. Through my thick glasses, I looked at his handsome, rugged face. There was a strange intensity in his gaze, a quiet storm brewing behind his eyes.

"Nobody decides Leo's future but me," Vincenzo said, his voice flat and firm, but his thumb was gently caressing the side of my jaw. "And certainly not Lucia. Do you understand?"

I nodded slowly, my lips parting slightly as I tried to breathe. He was so close I could see the tiny gold flecks in his gray irises. My mind was screaming at me to pull away, to remember who I was and why I was here. But my body wouldn't move.

His eyes drifted down to my lips, his grip on my chin tightening just a fraction. It felt like the entire world had shrunk down to this empty hallway, to his warm breath on my skin.

"Vincenzo?"

Lucia’s voice echoed from the sunroom.

Vincenzo’s hand dropped instantly. The warmth disappeared, replaced by the freezing air of the corridor. He took a step back, his face instantly shifting back into a cold, unreadable mask.

I didn't wait to be dismissed. I bowed quickly, turned on my heel, and walked away as fast as my legs could carry me, leaving him to face his fiancée alone.

I took the service stairs up to the third floor, my hands shaking so badly I had to grip the handrail. My skin still felt hot where Vincenzo had touched me. It was terrifying how easily he could undo all my defenses with just a look, a word, a touch. I had to keep my distance. I couldn't let my feelings—whatever they were—get in the way of my real mission.

I was here for Leo. Only Leo.

When I reached the nursery, the door was slightly ajar. I peeked inside and saw Leo sitting on the floor, surrounded by his wooden train tracks. He looked up the moment he heard my footsteps, his face instantly lighting up.

"Alessa!" he cried, running over to wrap his small arms around my knees.

The sheer force of his hug nearly brought tears to my eyes. I knelt down, catching him in my arms and holding him close for a brief, precious second. The warmth of his tiny body against mine was the only thing that made this nightmare bearable.

"Hey there, buddy," I whispered, kissing the top of his head before pulling back. "What are we building today?"

"A super long bridge," Leo explained, dragging me by the hand toward his toys. "But the blocks keep falling down."

"Well, let's see if we can build a stronger base," I said, sitting cross-legged on the floor next to him.

For the next hour, I poured all my focus into helping him. We stacked the wooden blocks carefully, testing the balance of the bridge. Every time a block fell, Leo giggled, and I couldn't help but laugh along with him. In these moments, the mansion, the mafia, and Vincenzo didn't exist. It was just a mother and her son, playing in their own little world.

But the peace didn't last.

The door opened, and Mrs. Gable walked in, her face pale. "Alessa, leave the young master for a moment. The chef needs you in the main dining hall immediately. The silver needs to be polished before the dinner with the elders tonight."

I stood up, dusting off my apron. "Yes, Mrs. Gable."

I looked down at Leo, who was watching me with wide, sad eyes. "I'll be back later, okay? Keep building that bridge."

He gave a slow nod, clutching his favorite red train car to his chest.

I walked down to the main dining hall, a massive room with a long oak table that could easily seat thirty people. The chandelier above cast a bright, cold light over the silver platters and crystal glasses arranged on the table.

I grabbed a polishing cloth and some cream from the side cart and began working on the heavy silver forks. The repetitive motion usually helped calm my nerves, but today, my mind was a chaotic mess.

*Switzerland.*

The word kept repeating in my head like a ticking time bomb. If Lucia succeeded in convincing Vincenzo, or if the syndicate elders forced his hand, Leo would be sent away. I would never see him again. The thought made my chest tighten with a familiar, desperate panic. I couldn't let that happen.

"You're working very hard."

I gasped, nearly dropping the silver fork in my hand.

I turned to see Marco, Vincenzo's cousin, leaning against the massive buffet cabinet. He had a charming, easy smile on his face, but his eyes were sharp and calculating. Unlike Vincenzo, who carried himself with a quiet, dominant gravity, Marco felt like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike.

"Sir," I said, quickly bowing my head. "I didn't hear you come in."

"Clearly," Marco said, taking a slow step toward the table. He picked up a polished spoon, examining his reflection in it before putting it back down. "You're Alessa, right? The new maid."

"Yes, sir."

"My cousin seems to take a particular interest in you," Marco murmured, his eyes locking onto mine with a cold, piercing intensity. "I saw him talking to you in the hallway earlier. It's rare for Vincenzo to pay attention to the staff. He usually treats them like furniture."

My heart stopped. Did Marco see us? Did he see Vincenzo touching my face?

I kept my voice as flat and emotionless as possible. "The Don was just asking about the young master's schedule, sir. I was looking after him yesterday."

Marco chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Is that all it was? Because from where I was standing, it looked a lot more personal."

He reached out, his fingers brushing against the edge of the silver tray on the table, keeping his eyes locked on mine.