Chapter 1 - The Song That Broke Every Rule
Six days after I started working for the most feared mafia boss in Westchester County, I made one spectacular mistake: I turned a feather duster into a microphone and sang at full volume inside his mansion. The problem wasn’t the song—it was that Dominic Vale, a man who demanded absolute silence, came home hours early and stood behind me long enough to hear nearly the entire chorus.
At twenty-nine, I was slim, dark-haired, and far more comfortable being unnoticed than becoming the center of attention. Unfortunately, that afternoon, I was performing like Madison Square Garden had personally hired me.
My burgundy housekeeping uniform moved around my knees as I crossed the enormous formal parlor, polishing an antique console with one hand while gripping the feather duster dramatically in the other. A tiny Bluetooth speaker sat on my cleaning cart with the volume almost as high as it would go.
Dominic wasn’t supposed to be home until evening.
So naturally, I sang louder.
I hit the chorus, spun toward a marble statue, pointed the feather duster at its face, and gave that lifeless piece of stone the most passionate performance of my career.
What I didn’t know was that Dominic had returned at exactly 2:17 p.m.
And he was watching me.
His security chief, Marcus Cole, had apparently walked up behind him, heard the music, and stopped too. Later, I would learn that Marcus nearly laughed when I added a completely unnecessary half-turn.
Dominic apparently gave him one look.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
“I value employment.”
I knew none of this because I was still singing.
Dominic Vale was thirty-eight, six-foot-three, broad-shouldered, dark-haired, and dressed almost entirely in black. He controlled legitimate logistics companies, restaurants, private clubs, and several businesses nobody with functioning survival instincts ever asked about.
He almost never raised his voice.
He didn’t have to.
Dominic could make silence feel more threatening than another man’s scream.
That was why his mansion had rules.
No unnecessary television.
No shouting.
No loud conversations near his study.
No music in the west wing.
No surprises.
No chaos.
No disorder.
Then I backed toward my cleaning cart, turned around—
And nearly died.
Dominic stood in the doorway.
The song kept playing behind me.
For one horrible second, neither of us moved.
“Hi,” I managed.
His eyes dropped to the feather duster still clutched in my hand.
I immediately hid it behind my back.
Marcus stared at the ceiling like the architecture had suddenly become fascinating.
Trying to shut off the speaker, I reached backward, knocked over a bottle of polish, caught it against my hip, and finally killed the music.
Silence crashed over the room.
Complete.
Perfect.
Exactly the way Dominic supposedly liked it.
Except something strange happened.
He didn’t look relieved.
“I thought you were out,” I said.
“I was.”
“That explains why I thought you were out.”
His expression didn’t change.
Dominic walked slowly into the parlor while I straightened like someone awaiting sentencing.
His gaze moved across the furniture.
Every surface gleamed.
The glass table was spotless, fresh flowers sat perfectly arranged, and the black marble fireplace reflected afternoon sunlight without a single fingerprint.
That seemed to irritate him even more.
Maybe it would have been easier if I were terrible at my job.
I wasn’t.
I simply cleaned like applause could happen at any moment.
Dominic folded his arms and stared directly at me.
“Was there an audience I wasn’t informed about?”
My face burned.
“No.”
His eyes flicked toward the marble statue.
“Because from where I was standing, he looked impressed.”
Marcus made a choking sound behind him.
I bit my lip to keep from smiling.
And then Dominic did something I never expected.
The corner of his mouth moved.
Barely.
But it moved.
I stared.
He noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
“I was surprised.”
“By what?”
“That you have facial muscles.”
Marcus actually laughed.
Dominic turned toward him.
Marcus immediately stopped.
I looked down at the floor, horrified by my own survival instinct apparently being on vacation.
“You’ve been here six days,” Dominic said.
“Yes.”
“You understand the rules.”
“Yes.”
“And yet…”
He glanced at the feather duster.
I sighed.
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Then explain.”
I could have lied.
I should have lied.
Instead, I said the truth.
“I was cleaning.”
“I can see that.”
“And the song came on.”
He waited.
“And?”
“I like singing.”
“Clearly.”
I swallowed.
“I didn't know you were coming home.”
“That doesn't explain the performance.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
I looked back.
“My mother used to say I clean better when I sing.”
Something changed behind his eyes.
It was so quick I nearly missed it.
“Where is your mother?”
I froze.
I hadn't expected that question.
“She passed away.”
Silence.
His expression softened, just slightly.
“How long ago?”
“Two years.”
“I’m sorry.”
The words were quiet.
Genuine.
That startled me more than his anger would have.
“Thank you.”
Dominic nodded.
Then his eyes dropped toward my shoes.
“You’re not wearing the right ones.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“Housekeeping shoes.”
I looked down.
I was wearing black ballet flats.
“My shoes were rubbing my heel.”
He frowned.
“You walked all over marble floors in those?”
“I survived.”
He stared at me like I had personally offended him.
“Marcus.”
“Yes?”
“Get her proper shoes.”
I immediately shook my head.
“That’s not necessary.”
“It wasn't a question.”
“I can buy my own.”
His jaw tightened.
“Then buy them.”
I stared at him.
He stared back.
“I thought you said no unnecessary surprises,” I muttered.
“I dislike unnecessary surprises.”
“You’re becoming one.”
His eyes narrowed.
For one second I thought I'd pushed too far.
Then he said, “You’re very comfortable for someone who nearly turned my formal parlor into a concert hall.”
I smiled despite myself.
“Maybe you needed the entertainment.”
Marcus turned away, shoulders shaking.
Dominic looked at him.
“Go.”
Marcus left.
I began collecting my supplies.
“Wait.”
I stopped.
Dominic walked toward the fireplace.
“There’s a stain on the lower molding.”
I frowned.
“Where?”
He pointed.
I crouched, inspected it, and immediately found a tiny gray mark.
“How did you even see that?”
“I notice everything.”
I glanced up at him.
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It is.”
For some reason, he smiled.
Not the almost-smile from before.
A real one.
Small.
Unexpected.
Beautiful.
It disappeared immediately.
“Finish here.”
“Yes, Mr. Vale.”
He started walking away.
Then he paused.
“Dominic.”
I looked up.
“What?”
“Call me Dominic.”
And then he left.
I stood there holding a dust cloth.
I didn't know why those three words affected me.
Maybe because everyone else in the mansion called him Mr. Vale.
Maybe because I'd expected distance.
Maybe because when he looked at me, I suddenly had the uncomfortable feeling that he didn't see me as invisible anymore.
That evening, I was finishing upstairs when Marcus found me.
“You’re brave.”
“I’m unemployed soon.”
He laughed.
“Dominic hasn't smiled like that in months.”
“Months?”
“Maybe longer.”
I shrugged.
“He laughed at a statue.”
Marcus grinned.
“Technically, the statue was the only innocent party.”
I smiled.
Then I noticed something on Marcus's face.
Concern.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You just changed expression.”
He looked down the hallway.
“You should be careful here.”
My smile faded.
“Because of Dominic?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Marcus hesitated.
“Not everyone who works for him likes him.”
“That seems obvious.”
“I mean it.”
Before I could ask more, a door opened at the end of the corridor.
Dominic stepped out.
Marcus immediately walked away.
I watched him disappear.
Dominic looked at me.
“Emma.”
“Yes?”
“Tomorrow, start on the east wing.”
“Why?”
“Because I want you there.”
My heart skipped.
That answer made no sense.
The east wing was where Dominic spent most of his private time.
His office.
His library.
His bedroom.
Places employees rarely entered.
“Is that a problem?” he asked.
“No.”
“Good.”
He walked past me.
Then stopped.
Without looking back, he said, “And Emma?”
“Yes?”
“Sing if you want.”
I smiled.
“But lower the volume.”
I laughed.
He glanced over his shoulder.
May you like
And for the first time since I entered that mansion, I saw something dangerous in Dominic Vale that had nothing to do with guns or power.
Interest.
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