Maid To The Three Mafia Kings

Chapter 11: Sincerity and Obedience

Millie felt her heart race as she descended into the cellar, taking slow breaths to calm herself. The dim light down there seemed to weigh heavily on her, wrapping around her like a thick blanket. The smell of old wood and cool air filled her senses, but it couldn't overshadow the sense of unease building in her gut. Every shelf, stacked with pricey bottles, seemed to silently judge her.

She scanned the shadows, desperate hope flickering within her. Surely there was a dusty crate or forgotten barrel she could hide behind. But the neatly stacked bottles, the meticulously labeled shelves... The Morettis left no room for error and no escape route for her.

Suddenly, the memory of her first meeting with Ethan flooded back, catching her off guard. She could almost hear his deep, menacing voice echoing in her mind, uninvited.

"I must admit, I wasn't expecting someone like you. I'm not quite sure what to do with you. How to punish you for your...disobedience."

The intensity of his stare from that moment had etched itself into her memory. She couldn't help but shiver, feeling just as vulnerable and exposed as she did back then. Now, here she was, alone, about to confront the man who held her fate in his hands.

Scanning the cellar anxiously, her eyes landed on a small gap behind a towering shelf. But as she moved toward it, a sense of defeat washed over her. This was Moretti territory, meticulously organized and known inside and out by Mr. Jameson.

With a sigh of resignation, she turned back, her fingers finding the familiar shape of the brandy bottle Ethan favored. It felt weighty in her grasp, matching the heaviness of dread in her gut.

Every step toward the study seemed to drag on forever for Millie. Each footfall reverberated through the hallway, amplifying the oppressive silence. When she finally reached the door, her knuckles barely brushed against the polished wood before a voice, deep and rich like aged whiskey, broke the stillness. "Come in."

Pushing the door open, she was enveloped by the scent of old books and leather. The study exuded old-world opulence: heavy drapes, shelves lined with leather-bound tomes. Ethan sat behind his imposing desk, buried beneath a mountain of paperwork that shielded his expression. He hardly glanced up as she entered, his attention consumed by the document in his hand.

"Pour me a glass," Ethan instructed, his voice clipped.

Millie moved to the side table, the crystal decanter clinking nervously against the glass. Her fingers trembled as she filled it, the scent of rich amber swirling up like a warning. She placed the glass before him, and his gaze finally lifted to meet hers.

"Sit," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Millie's heart hammered against her ribs as she lowered herself into the chair opposite him. When he finally met her gaze, it felt like being trapped under an icy weight. His eyes, the same piercing blue as his brothers, held none of their warmth.

"I have to admit, I was surprised to see you among the staff," Ethan began, his tone measured. "Of all the faces we could have hired..." He let the sentence hang, the silence thickening between them..

"I...I didn't realize. . ." Millie stuttered, hating the weakness in her voice.

"Your little stunt proved you're impulsive, unreliable. Those aren't qualities I value in my staff," Ethan continued, taking a slow sip.

"I'm really, really sorry, Mr. Moretti. I wasn't trying to—"

"It seems your talents lie in defiance, not service," he cut her off, his gaze raked over her, sharp and assessing, making her skin crawl. "Do yourself a favor, Ms. Foster. Leave. Leave before your curiosity leads you into more trouble than you can handle."