"The mafia boss hadn’t let a woman near his bed in five years—until his exhausted maid fell asleep beside him with a dangerous fever.

Two days later, Chloe returned to her duties. Her fever had broken, leaving her weak but determined to maintain her routine.

Equipped with a silver trolley loaded with fresh linens, lavender polish, and soft dusters, she stood outside the massive double doors of Victor Russo’s private suite. Her heart thumped against her ribs like a trapped bird.

She knocked twice. Silence answered.

Taking a deep breath, she inserted the golden skeleton key into the lock and pushed the heavy oak door open.

The suite was vast, quiet, and impeccably organized. Morning light filtered through towering arched windows, casting long golden rectangles across the dark hardwood floors. The massive California king bed sat empty, its charcoal-gray comforter neatly pulled back.

Chloe set to work immediately. She stripped the bed, replaced the sheets with crisp white Egyptian cotton, polished the heavy mahogany furniture, and tidied the private bathroom with meticulous care.

As she worked near the grand mahogany desk, her eyes caught sight of a small leather-bound ledger resting beside a stack of documents. Written at the top of a yellow pad in sharp, elegant handwriting were four words: Bennett Debt — Paid in Full.

Chloe froze. She reached out a hand, her fingers trembling as she hovered over the paper.

"Looking for something, Bennett?"

Chloe jumped, dropping her duster.

Victor was standing in the doorway leading from his private gym. He wore a simple black t-shirt and dark trousers, a white towel draped around his thick neck. Sweat glistened on his broad shoulders, and his dark hair was damp, falling slightly over his forehead.

"Mr. Russo!" Chloe gasped, pressing her back against the desk. "I... I was just dusting. I'm sorry!"

Victor walked into the room, his long strides effortless and quiet. He picked up the bottle of water from his desk, unstopped it, and took a deep drink before looking down at her.

"You look less like a corpse today," he observed, setting the bottle down.

"Thank you," Chloe said, her face flushing warm. "I... I saw the paper."

Victor didn't blink. "You shouldn't read private documents."

"Is it true?" Chloe asked, stepping forward, forgetting Mrs. Gable’s warning to never look him in the eye. Her bright brown eyes locked onto his dark, guarded gaze. "Did you pay off my father's debt to the loan sharks?"

"I don't like bloodsuckers operating in my territory," Victor said smoothly, leaning back against the edge of the desk and crossing his arms. "They were annoying."

"It was ninety thousand dollars," Chloe said, her voice shaking with emotion. "I’ve been working sixteen hours a day for three years trying to pay off the interest alone. Why would you do that for me?"

"Because you're bad at math," Victor replied calmly. "You would have died of exhaustion before you paid off nineties grand on a maid’s salary. I need a living housekeeper, Bennett, not a ghost wandering my hallways."

Chloe stared at him, torn between overwhelming gratitude and intense confusion. "I can't accept that. I don't have anything to give you in return."

Victor’s gaze darkened. He straightened up, stepping closer to her until she was trapped between his large frame and the mahogany desk. The scent of cedar, sweat, and expensive soap washed over her senses, making her dizzy all over again.

"I didn't ask for anything in return," Victor said, his voice dropping into a low, rumbling growl. "I don't bargain with women, Chloe. And I don't collect debts from innocent girls whose fathers made stupid mistakes."

"Mr. Russo..." she whispered, her chest heaving as she looked up at his chiseled jaw, the faint stubble darkening his skin.

"Finish your work," Victor said, stepping back and breaking the magnetic tension that had filled the space between them. "And don't leave the main estate grounds tonight. Storm's coming."

He turned and walked toward his dressing room, leaving Chloe standing alone in the golden morning light, her heart hammering wildly against her chest.

That night, the storm hit Chicago with full force. Blizzard winds howled against the stone walls of the Russo manor, rattling the windowpanes and burying the gardens under inches of snow.

At 1:00 AM, Chloe was sitting in the small window nook of the staff library, reading a book by the dim light of a desk lamp, unable to sleep.

Suddenly, the heavy double doors of the front entrance slammed open downstairs.

Shouts echoed through the marble foyer. Heavy footsteps rushed up the grand staircase.

Chloe opened the library door slightly and peeked out.

Marco and two security guards were carrying Victor up the stairs. Victor was pale, his white dress shirt soaked in dark, crimson blood around his abdomen.