The rain beat against the city hard that night she arrived, pouring down in an unceasing fall. Amelia shivered, her small, battered suitcase clutched tightly in her hand; the last reminder of her previous life. She had no place to go-no person was left unto her. The hollowness inside gnawed into her soul, like some sort of familiar ache she had carried since young.

Her life was never easy. Growing up, her life barely knew what the word 'kindness' meant: an angry and violent dispositioned father who drowned his sorrows in bottles, leaving her to battle on in that small, dingy home. And her mother had died when she was just a child, caving in a big void no one had ever tried to fill. She had been surviving these years, giving up her dreams for a better future that never came.

One cold night, when she was just sixteen, he hadn't come back. She'd waited days, in a blur of relief versus fear, until finally, she'd been forced out into the open, literally with nothing but the clothes on her back. She wandered from town to town, taking small jobs just to scrape by, but no matter how hard she worked, she couldn't escape the crushing weight of loneliness.

It was desperation that made her come to the mansion that night, clutching a newspaper ad promising work for those willing to do what others wouldn't. She knew she didn't have much choice. This was her last chance to find a way out of the pit her life had become.

Now it was looming in front of her-a great, dark sprawl of a structure that absorbed the lights from the street lamps into its cold, imposing presence. A warning, it felt like, but on she pressed, preparing herself for what was to come.

Inside, she was confronted by a tall, spare woman with sharp features and an expression of no-nonsense. "You must be Amelia," she said, looking her up and down with an eye that was close to critical. "We don't hire weaklings here. Do you understand?"

Amelia nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "I understand.

The woman's eyes softened, just a little. "You'll be working under Mr. Romano. He doesn't tolerate mistakes. Do as you're told, and you might last here." She leaned in; her voice fell to a low murmur. "He's not a kind man, but he's fair, in his own way. Don't cross him, and you'll be fine."

Amelia swallowed, feeling a knot of anxiety twist in her stomach. She knew Mr. Enzo Romano, the Mafia boss, never took no for an answer. He had a name for cruelty and an ice-cold heart, wherein fear and respect in equal measure went hand in glove. People hushed over him, speaking tales of how he had ruined many lives just to keep his empire intact. Serving such a man sent shivers down her spine, and yet there was no choice.

That night, she was shown to a modest room on the rear of the mansion. It was thinly furnished with only one bed and a wardrobe, but for her, compared to the dingy rooms she'd been staying in over the years, it was a sight. The exhaustion told on her as she collapsed onto the bed, trying to shut up the gnawing fear in her heart.

The next morning, Amelia's labors began. Scrubbing floors, polishing silver, and cleaning the great rooms of the mansion with Mrs. Delgado, the housekeeper, constantly breathing down her neck Days merged into weeks, and though the work was exhausting, she found a strange sense of comfort in the routine. For once in her life, she felt she had a purpose, a reason to get up in the morning.

But everything came to a head the day she had been called to Mr. Romano's private study.

The air felt heavy and thick as she made her way to the study, her heart pounding in her chest. She had seen Mr. Romano only from afar, watched him sweep through the halls with an air of authority that left everyone quivering in his wake. He was tall, with sharp features and dark eyes with a dangerous glint. Every movement, every look, commanded attention.

She took a trembling breath and knocked on the door, her pulse racing.

"Enter," came the deep smooth voice from within that sent a shiver down her spine.

She opened the door and stepped inside, her gaze on the floor, as instructed. The room was dimly lit, heavy curtains drawn and dancing across the walls in shadows. Mr. Romano sat behind a large mahogany desk, his piercing stare set on her.

"Amelia, isn't it?" His voice was soft, yet dangerous.

She nodded, her voice barely audible. "Yes, sir.

A faint smile arced his lips, not quite reaching his eyes. "I have heard you are.different from the others. Quiet. Obedient. Do you know why I summoned you here?

She shook her head, trying to keep the fear from showing. He stood, crossing the room in slow, calculated steps until he was standing just inches away from her. She could feel the heat of his presence, the raw power radiating from him. His finger tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze.

Amelia, you intrigue me," he whispered, eyes scanning her face as if with the force of a hurricane, and making her knees feel like they were going to buckle. "Such innocence… in a place like this. Tell me, how does a girl like you end up working for a man like me?

Her heart was racing, her voice grappling for words as her head spun. "I. I had nowhere else to go," she whispered, her voice exposing a trace of vulnerability. "This was my only choice.

A low rumble of a chuckle escaped him. "Desperation. It's a powerful motivator." His hand remained on her chin a little too long before he released her, stepping back. "Remember this, Amelia. In this house, you belong to me. Your loyalty, your obedience… everything.

She nodded, recognizing the stew of fear and… something else. Something she couldn't name, that pulled her toward him even as she wanted to run. Mr. Romano was dangerous, that much was certain, but there was something in his eyes that told her there might be more-a darkness, yes, but perhaps a loneliness, a crack in his otherwise impenetrable armor.

"Dismissed," he said, his tone sharp once more.

Amelia fled the room, her heart pounding, back to her chores. She couldn't deny the way he drew her to himself, the resonance of his voice lingering in her mind, and the depth of his gaze, despite her will not to her. For the first time in years, she felt something she didn't quite understand-a spark, a flame that flickered within her, urging her to get closer, to find out the man behind the mask.