Lucrezia stood unmoving for what seemed like hours but was only a few minutes.
Her brows were knitted the whole time; flashbacks and subtle memories she'd recalled from when her father had adopted a young boy came flooding back in an overwhelming amount.
"Maverick..." Her eyes softened as she called him but the man before her only held an even colder gaze, making him totally unfamiliar to the person she had known years ago.
She pinched her brows when he continued coming forward until he closed the distance between them, trapping her between him and the wall like a sandwich.
"What are you doing?" She asked him when he abruptly tugged at the apron she wore, pulling the fabric off.
Lucrezia's senses hit on high alert as she grabbed his hands to stop him but he wasn't having any of it.
Stretching his hand behind her, he gripped the zip of her maid uniform and dragged it down, destroying it in the process and tearing it open, exposing her bare.
"Maverick!" She shouted in shock when he pulled her by the waist and held her chin up to meet his gaze.
"I hope you understand something," he said, voice low and controlled. His dark eyes locked onto hers without a flicker like he was staring into her soul. "I'm not that errand boy your father once dragged in off the streets."
He inched closer, so close, she could feel his breath.
"I run Montoverra now. And you?" A faint, humourless smirk touched his mouth and his gaze hardened.
"You belong to me. I paid in blood and millions to make that happen!"
Blood? Lucrezia's ears rang with those words.
He suddenly pulled back and tugged the collar of her dress, ripping it off in one swift move.
Lucrezia screamed in panic as she brought her hand instinctively to her chest, covering her exposed body part.
Maverick didn't spare her a single glance. He hauled her up as if she weighed nothing and flung her onto his king-sized bed, the mattress dipping beneath her. In the next moment, he was over her with his solid bare chest, exuding heat along with the scent of expensive cologne that clung to his skin.
Lucrezia snapped her head to the side, refusing to look at him. She stretched out her small hands against his chest, trying to shove him away, but it was like pushing against a stone wall.
Seeing her recoil, Maverick's jaw tightened, a muscle ticking beneath his skin.
He caught her wrists and pinned them above her head, his grip firm enough to restrain her but not hurt her. The cool air kissed her exposed skin, leaving her painfully aware of how vulnerable she was beneath him.
"Stop!" Lucrezia cried, squeezing her eyes shut as if darkness could protect her from the humiliation burning through her veins.
The memory of the quiet, protective boy her father had once trusted flickered in her mind. The soft-eyed boy who had protected and guarded her once before, always by her side regardless was now gone.
Instead, he had been replaced by a man carved from something harder and colder. She didn't know what it was or what had led to it, but nothing shattered her more than that realisation.
Maverick's gaze traced her face instead of her body, studying the tremor in her lips, the defiance she tried to bury beneath fear and the tears that slipped from her eyes.
Something unreadable moved through his gaze... almost like anger, but also something dangerously close to restraint.
He leaned toward her left ear, his breath warm against her skin and his voice dropping to a low, controlled murmur.
"Open your eyes, Lucrezia," he said quietly. "And look at me."
Lucrezia stilled, those words engulfing her like chains and she didn't realise when she slowly lifted her lashes. Tears clung stubbornly to them, spilling over as her gaze locked with his. For a heartbeat, none of them moved.
Her eyes hardened despite the wetness in them. She blinked once, steadying herself, though her lips trembled when she finally spoke.
"You… killed my father."
The statement wasn't hysterical and simply came out as a low accusation, as she had already pieced the truth together and only needed to hear how it sounded aloud.
Maverick's brows drew together faintly, a flicker of something like surprise, crossing his features.
But he did not confirm it and neither did he deny it.
Instead, his expression turned cold.
"You are my property now," he said evenly. "So you will act like it. You will do exactly as I say. No questions. No defiance." His gaze sharpened. "Do you understand?"
Each word struck her like a physical blow. Her heart folded in on itself, too fragile to take this betrayal.
Without another word, Maverick released her and stood. The sudden absence of his weight made the air feel strange, almost empty.
He walked to his wardrobe with utmost composure, pulling a shirt over his head as though nothing momentous had just occurred.
When he turned back to her, his face was unreadable.
"You should leave."
It wasn't a suggestion.
Lucrezia moved instantly. She slid off the bed and gathered the torn remains of her dress in her trembling hands, pressing the fabric against herself as she hurried toward the door, her cheeks burning with humiliation.
She stopped just before opening it, remembering something.
The corridor ahead had people all over. Guards would be moving about and she couldn't imagine the looks she would get if she left here half-naked.
Her fingers tightened around the ruined cloth as she stood there, contemplating what to do when something soft struck her shoulder.
She stumbled back slightly and turned to see a thick white robe just at her feet.
Slowly, she lifted her gaze to Maverick. He wasn't looking at her and was turned away, fastening the cuff of his sleeve like the gesture had meant nothing.
After a long second, she bent down and picked up the robe. The fabric was heavy and warm.
She slipped it around herself without a word, not thanking him or looking back as she left the room, shutting the door behind her.
Her heart was racing fast as she blurred past the line of guards, not meeting anyone's gaze or eyes.
It had been him, she concluded in her heart.
He was responsible for her father's death.
The idea of the Maverick she had known since she was little, stabbing her father behind his back felt out of character.
She rushed back to the maid's room before Carla would find her.
Thankfully, when she entered, they were all asleep. The sky was already deep in the night and Lucrezia was already feeling dizzy from everything that had happened. She was in dire need of rest.
The beds were spread in bunkers as the room was large, allowing enough space for them.
Lucrezia went straight to one of the empty beds not far away and climbed on the mattress, feeling her back ache. She pressed her eyes tight, wishing she could just fall asleep the next second but all she did was think and cry, wondering how she was going to keep up with this new lifestyle.
The bed was hard. It was not nearly as comfortable as her bed back home but it was manageable and once she'd drowned in her thoughts, she drifted off to sleep.
.
Meanwhile, Maverick had just showered, his black obsidian hair still wet and damp as he picked a plain black shirt, putting it on, his eyes glued to his bed in thoughts when a knock came in and he quickly answered.
"What's the news?" He asked immediately, not beating around the bush.
"We found him, boss." The voice rang, with no further explanation.
Gavin paved the way for the don to step out of the room.
"Where is he?" He asked and Gavin replied, "The back room."
Both of them were already making their way there even before the blonde-haired man gave the reply.
The alley leading to the room was deep inside the mansion, with only a few people aware of it. The lights around dimmed the further they got inside until they came to a stop in front of a cramped room.
The room looked completely different from the other parts of the mansion. Unlike the luxuriously decorated wings outside, this place appeared to be a cell, reeking of blood and rusted iron.
Maverick entered the room without hurry, the heavy door shutting behind him with a thud.
A single bulb hung from the ceiling, casting light over the figure that was bound to a metal chair in the centre.
He dragged a chair across the concrete floor and sat down opposite the man whose head was covered with a black hood.
No theatrics or wasted motion.
Maverick reached forward and yanked the hood off.
The man sucked in a desperate breath, coughing profusely as air rushed into his lungs. The sound echoed in the silent room.
After a moment, he lifted his head. Sweat clung to his temples and his wrists strained against the rope. When his vision cleared, he fixed Maverick with a venomous glare.
The don wasn't fazed.
Leaning back slightly, he rested one ankle over his knee, posture relaxed deliberately in contrast to the other man's restraint.
"We meet again," he said.
A slow smile curved across his lips—thin, controlled, and deeply unsettling. It wasn't a smile of pleasure.
It was the smile of a man who had already decided how this would end.