The first rule of survival in the mansion was simple:
Stay invisible.
But rules were easier spoken than kept.
By evening, the household quieted. Clara had swept through the halls like a storm of perfume and diamonds before leaving for the gala, leaving a trail of orders for the staff and a promise to "make Adrian more presentable."
I should have been grateful she was gone. Instead, her absence made the house feel heavier, darker.
My chores kept me moving between the grand halls and the servants' wing, my footsteps swallowed by the silence of marble floors and endless corridors. Most doors were locked. The few that weren't opened into polished rooms I was too afraid to enter.
Until I heard it.
A voice. Low, commanding. Adrian's.
It slipped through a half-open door near the end of the east wing. My heart thudded as I realized it wasn't the office Clara had shown off earlier—it was somewhere hidden, tucked behind a hallway that most staff never used.
Curiosity gnawed at me, stronger than fear. I should have walked past. But I paused, breath caught, and leaned the slightest bit closer.
"… shipments arrive Thursday. No mistakes this time."
His tone was sharper than I'd ever heard. Not smooth, not playful. Dangerous.
Another voice answered—raspy, nervous. "Yes, boss. The docks will be clear. We've already—"
"Already isn't good enough." A pause. "If the Fiores touch a single crate, you'll be answering to me. Do you understand?"
The man stammered something I couldn't make out.
My palms grew damp. Shipments. Docks. Fiores. This wasn't business talk—it was something else. Something criminal.
I shifted my weight, meaning to retreat, when the floor betrayed me. A board creaked under my shoe.
Silence slammed through the room.
My stomach dropped.
Then—Adrian's voice, cutting like a blade. "Who's there?"
Panic jolted through me. I stumbled back, ready to run, but before I could, the door swung open.
He stood there, framed in shadows. The air around him felt heavier than any man should carry. His jacket was discarded, sleeves rolled up, revealing strong forearms inked with faint scars. His eyes locked on me, and for a moment I couldn't breathe.
"You." His voice was soft, too soft. "What did you hear?"
"N-nothing." My voice cracked. "I—I was just cleaning—"
"Don't lie to me." He stepped closer, and I found myself backing against the wall. His hand braced beside my head, caging me in without touching me. His scent—smoke and something expensive—wrapped around me, making my knees weak even as terror clawed at my chest.
"I didn't mean to," I whispered. "I swear I wasn't—"
His other hand lifted, tilting my chin so I couldn't look away. His gaze was a storm—dark, unrelenting. "You don't get to stumble into places you don't belong, little maid."
I swallowed hard. My pulse pounded so loud I was sure he could hear it. "I'll forget what I heard."
His lips curved—not quite a smile. More like a predator amused by the trembling of prey. "That's the problem, Lyra. I don't believe you."
The way he said my name made it sound like a secret.
"I—please, I won't say anything."
For a long, unbearable moment, he just studied me. The tension was thick enough to choke on.
Then, suddenly, he leaned in. His lips brushed the shell of my ear as he whispered, "Good. Because if you do… I'll make sure your silence is permanent."
A shiver ran down my spine—fear, yes, but something else too. Something I hated myself for feeling.
Before I could reply, another man cleared his throat from inside the room. "Boss?"
Adrian didn't move for a beat. Then, slowly, he stepped back, his expression unreadable. "Get back to work," he murmured to me. Not a request. A command.
I nodded so fast my neck hurt, clutching the tray in my hands like a shield as I hurried down the corridor.
But no matter how far I went, I could still feel his presence at my back, the echo of his voice in my ear.
And though every instinct screamed to stay away from him, a dangerous truth was already sinking in—
Adrian Moretti wasn't just my employer.
He was the storm I had just walked into.
And storms didn't let you walk back out.