The envelope was cream-colored, smooth, and thick like the kind you'd get for a wedding or a death. Eva found it tucked beneath the apartment door when she returned from the morning rush at the diner, her apron still dusted with flour and spilled coffee.
She stared at it like it might explode.
There was no name. No logo. Just a gold-foiled seal pressed into the back, subtle and expensive.
Her hands trembled as she peeled it open.
Inside: a single piece of stationery.
You're invited.
A time. A driver. A location.
And below that, typed in sharp, cold lettering:
A new opportunity. Higher pay. Better hours. Come prepared to work.
No signature. No title. But the ink pressed into her skin like a fingerprint.
Eva sat down on the worn arm of the couch, the paper clutched in her fist. Her brother's shoes lay by the door frayed, muddy, half a size too small. He'd outgrown them months ago, but new ones cost money. Everything did.
Noah needed books. Tuition. A stable home. She hadn't been able to give him any of it.
And now… now this.
Was it a trap?
Of course it was.
But it was also hope dressed like danger. And right now, hope was in short supply.
That night, the limo came for her. Just like before.
Same driver. Same silence. Same unspoken weight pressing in from every direction. Only this time, she didn't tremble. Her fear had been burned away by something colder. Regret? Maybe. Resignation? Definitely.
They drove out of the city past glass towers and traffic lights, out toward the hills where the air turned stiller and the houses stopped being houses and started becoming estates.
The gate they passed through was tall enough to keep the world out. Or her in.
The car pulled to a stop at the foot of a long, marble staircase. The house no, mansion loomed overhead, all shadows and glass, like it had been carved out of ice.
A woman waited by the door. Blonde, sharp-boned, wearing black like it was war paint.
"Miss Lane?" she asked, tone clipped.
Eva nodded.
"Follow me."
They walked inside. Every surface gleamed. The floors, the walls, the fucking air. It was the kind of place that didn't just scream wealth it whispered it, low and vicious, like a promise you couldn't escape.
"This way," the woman said, already halfway down a hall.
Eva followed without asking questions. She didn't want to know the answers.
They passed a library, a dining hall, rooms with ceilings high enough to swallow her whole.
At the end of the hallway, the woman stopped and opened a door.
"This will be your room," she said. "You'll find clothes in the closet, a schedule on the desk, and instructions for your tasks tomorrow."
Eva blinked. "Tasks?"
"You accepted employment, didn't you?"
She hadn't really accepted anything. Just stepped into the dark and hoped not to fall too far.
Before Eva could speak again, the woman turned. "Dinner is at seven. Don't be late."
The door shut behind her like a verdict.
Eva looked around. The room was… beautiful. Plush. Designed. Nothing like the cramped apartment she shared with Noah. But it wasn't hers. None of this was.
She found the schedule typed, color-coded, already expecting her compliance.
Breakfast at 7AM. Laundry service. Food prep. Housekeeping.
A maid.
She was going to be a maid. For him.
Her stomach turned.
Eva crossed the room to the closet and opened it.
The uniforms hung in perfect symmetry black dresses, crisp aprons, not a wrinkle in sight.
On the floor was a small box.
She opened it with shaking fingers.
Inside was a phone. Brand new. No apps. Just contacts labeled "Housekeeper," "Security," and… "Mr. Stone."
She stared at that name for a long time.
A soft knock at the door broke the silence.
Eva turned. The woman was back, holding a slim folder.
"You forgot your contract."
The word made her skin crawl. "I didn't sign anything."
"You did, last time."
Eva's lips parted, breath caught. "That wasn't employment."
The woman's face gave nothing away. "Didn't it lead here?"
Eva reached for the folder with numb fingers. It was thinner than the last one, but somehow heavier.
"I need time to ..."
"There is none. Sign it or leave."
She didn't leave.
Eva didn't read it. She didn't have the strength to pretend it was a choice.
Her signature looked strange against the glossy paper like graffiti on polished marble.
The woman took the contract without another word and left her alone again.
Eva sat on the edge of the bed, the silence thick and suffocating.
Why had she come?
Because she needed money. Because the first night had shattered her, and she hadn't known how to put the pieces back together. Because she couldn't stop thinking about his hands, his mouth, the way he'd held her after, like she was something breakable.
And maybe… maybe because some foolish part of her had hoped he'd be here.
But he wasn't.
Hours passed. The sky outside turned bruised and black. Eva wandered the room like a ghost.
She found herself at the window, staring down at the gardens. Lights twinkled along the paths like fallen stars.
She jumped when she heard the door creak open behind her.
A shadow stretched across the floor.
Even before she saw him, she felt him like a shadow sliding under her skin.
He didn't say anything at first. Just stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
The silence between them stretched, thick with things unsaid.
She turned slowly.
He stood there Enzo Stone.
Perfectly tailored suit. Collar open. Sleeves rolled. His eyes sharper than she remembered.
He looked at her like she was a painting he wasn't sure he had the right to touch.
"I didn't know this was your estate," she said finally, voice quiet but steady.
"Yes, you did," he replied.
She bit her lip.
"I didn't come here for this. I thought it was just work."
"It is."
"As a maid?"
He didn't answer.
She stepped back. "So that's the deal now? You pay me to clean your floors instead of warm your bed?"
"I never said I was done with that part."
Her breath caught.
"Why me?" she whispered.
His eyes darkened. "Because I wanted you."
"That's not an answer."
"No," he agreed. "It's a warning."
She backed toward the bed, her legs weak. "You can't just trap me here."
"You walked in."
"I didn't know what I was walking into."
"You always did, Eva."
She hated how he said her name. Like it belonged to him.
He took a step closer. "You signed the contract."
"I didn't read it."
His gaze sharpened. "That's not my problem."
Eva felt her spine straighten. "You're disgusting."
"And you're still here."
They stood there, locked in silence, something bitter and electric hanging in the air.
She turned toward the window again, needing space, needing air.
But he followed.
"I'm not afraid of you," she said.
"Good," he murmured. "Fear makes people foolish."
"Then what do you want from me, Enzo?"
He reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
"To see if one night was enough."
Her breath hitched.
Then his voice dropped to a murmur, dark and velvet.
"Welcome home."
---
{Enzo's Internal Monologue}
She looked thinner. Paler. He told himself he wasn't the reason.
But the lie burned hotter than the bourbon he'd poured to forget her.