Page 2 of Married to the Ruthless Mafia Heir

I froze for a second, then nodded. "Yes, sir."

I walked over and hung the suit on the board. I picked up the steamer. Ironing a suit required precision. I adjusted the steam temperature carefully and started at the shoulders, working slowly and evenly.

The room fell quiet.

Just the hiss of steam and the soft press of iron against fabric.

I could feel him watching me. He sat on the sofa by the bed, his gaze fixed on me like some unavoidable presence.

My hands weren't steady. I took a deep breath and forced myself to focus.

"What's your name?"

His voice came from behind me, softer than before.

"Elena," I answered quietly, not turning around.

"What do you do at the manor?"

"I take care of Salvador."

He didn't respond right away. After a moment, he said, "His temper's shit."

I hadn't expected him to talk about his own father like that. Salvador's temper was notorious—everyone at the manor knew it—but no one dared say it out loud.

I hesitated, searching for words that wouldn't offend. "It's okay. I'm used to it."

"Being used to it doesn't make it easy." Dante's tone carried something like sympathy, maybe kinship. "Salvador's not easy to deal with. The fact that you've lasted over a year means you take this job seriously."

His tone was flat—not praise, just fact.

But the words stirred something in me.

In over a year, no one had said that to me. Lucia was kind, but she never commented on the family. The other maids didn't care how I felt. Only I knew how much courage it took to face Salvador's moods and demands every single day.

And now this man—who'd just met me—casually said what I'd been thinking all along.

I didn't respond. I kept ironing.

But my fingers started trembling.

Not from fear.

From the way he'd said it—not cold like I'd imagined. Almost... gentle.

Could someone as powerful as Dante actually be gentle? I was curious, but I'd never know.

Dante rarely came to the manor, but his name came up every day. The maids loved talking about him. Tall, handsome, powerful, rich.

And single. For a long time.

No girlfriend. No wife.

The maids fantasized about catching his eye and becoming the lady of the manor. Every time I heard it, I thought to myself: Dream on. A man like that would never fall for a maid.

I'd been at Moretti Manor for over a year, but I'd only seen Dante three times, and only from a distance. Because Dante and Salvador had a terrible relationship—hostile, tense—Dante rarely came home. I rarely had the chance to see him.

Once, he'd passed by me quickly. I'd kept my head down, afraid to look, only watching his long legs and spotless shoes stride past.