Semua Bab The billionaire Mafia's Pregnant maid: Bab 1 - Bab 10

"You will wed him, Maya. I've already given my word," Maxim growled, prowling the dining room like a wolf around prey. The light from the chandelier picked up the silver in his hair, making him appear sharper, harder, as though his years had only distilled the cruelty of his face."I'm not marrying Alexandria," Maya whispered. She knew better than to raise her voice. With Maxim, quiet defiance was more dangerous than screaming.Maxim stopped pacing, eyes narrowing to slits. “You think you get a choice?” His voice softened, which was always worse. “Alexandria is offering me territory, protection, influence. You’re going to be the reason our family becomes untouchable.”I'm not a bargaining chip," she said, reaching out to grip the edge of the table. Her knuckles whitened.The back of his hand struck her cheek so quickly she didn't even have time to see it. The report was louder than the pain, a sharp crack that seemed to reverberate off the marble floo

The sound of pots clanging together in the distance echoed down the hall, pulling Maya out of a restless sleep. She didn't right away remember where she was until her eyes fell upon the bare white ceiling and the barred window that faced a gray courtyard. She was in the Moretti estate.The air was cool and smelled slightly of polish and starch. At the foot of the narrow bed, a black uniform and a white apron had been placed, folded neatly, with a pair of sensible shoes. She stretched out to feel the fabric, stiff, newly laundered, then dressed rapidly, tying the apron around her waist. The clothes were armor, but thin armor.Outside her door, the hallway hummed with hushed activity in the corridor. Two maids hurried past, carrying fresh linens. One of them gave her a polite smile; the other didn't even glance in her direction.She followed the faint scent of coffee to a small break room off the central hallway. A round-faced maid was pouring two steaming m

Two weeks passed and Maya could feel Georgia's growing hostility towards her.Maya was cleaning the mirror in the corridor when she heard it.The reluctant click of heels on marble brought her sharply back into focus. The sound was slower now, deliberate.She caught sight of Georgia's image in the mirror before she turned, deep red silk again, hair curled into a perfect twist, eyes flashing like cut glass."You're thorough," Georgia told her, the voice thick with false praise as she advanced. "Polishing mirrors, serving trays… I suppose that's all you can do."Maya remained standing but held a flat expression. "It's my job, ma'am."Georgia's smile thinned. "Yes, of course. But here's the thing about jobs, some of them have very short shelf lives. Especially when you… get under people's skin.".The tone was soft, verging on playful, but the venom beneath was evident.Maya gripped the polishing cloth more tightly.

The kitchen was in progress when Maya entered, pan noise and steam hiss making a familiar soundtrack. Sunlight struggled through the narrow window above the sink, catching dust motes along the way. She was midway through slicing fresh bread when Mrs. Carbone's voice cut through the noise."Santoro. Coffee. For the boss."Maya raised her head. "Now?"Mrs. Carbone arched a brow. “When else? And mind your manners, don’t speak unless spoken to. Leave the tray and get out. Understood?”“Yes, ma’am.”The silver tray was polished to a mirror’s shine. A porcelain cup, delicate yet severe, sat on its saucer. The rich, dark aroma rising from the coffee was almost intoxicating, a bitter perfume that clung to the air.Maya steadied her breathing as she walked down the lengthy corridor to the study. This section of the house was quieter, denser, as though the walls themselves were waiting with bated breath when Lucien was present.Th

The party raged on, but for Lucien, the world had narrowed to one figure.Maya.His gaze tracked her with unrelenting focus, even as Georgia slid her arm possessively through his. “Lucien,” she purred, her perfume cloying against the sharper, cleaner edge of his cologne. “Come with me. There’s a matter we should… discuss privately.”But before he could reply, a sharp, polished voice cut in.“Georgia.”Both turned. A woman in emerald satin stood nearby, Signora Bianchi, wife of one of Lucien’s oldest allies. Her eyes glittered like a blade. “A word. Now.”Georgia stiffened. “I’m occupied—”“You’ll want to be unoccupied,” the Signora said smoothly, her lips curving without warmth. “Unless you’d like your little… indiscretions discussed in front of your host’s entire board.”Color rose in Georgia’s cheeks, but she forced a brittle smile and let her hand slip from Lucien’s arm. “I’ll be right back,” she murmured, then stalked