Bas Navarro

POV: KAELIA

What the fuck? I stared blankly at the massive barrier in front of me. Isn't anyone going to answer?

I pulled out my phone, the screen glaring brightly in the dim light of the second-floor landing. A message popped up.

*Scarlett Vance: Just come in bitch. It’s unlocked.*

Oh. Fuck. Okay.

I lifted a trembling hand, my palm slick with nervous sweat, and wrapped my fingers firmly around the gleaming gold handle of the heavy marble double doors. I turned the metal and pushed. The sheer weight of the stone required a hard shove from my shoulder. The very second I stepped past the threshold, the massive doors swung shut behind my back with an automatic, terrifying grace. A definitive, heavy click echoed through the space, locking into place.

The pitch-black hallway instantly swallowed every residual ounce of ambient light from the pounding club outside. The floor-to-ceiling macabre marble shuttered me in suffocating darkness. The oppressive silence pressed against my eardrums, erasing the aggressive rock beat from downstairs. I couldn't see my own hand in front of my face.

"Hello?" I called out, my voice wavering in the empty space. I couldn't see a single damned thing. Nothing.

"Kae!" Scarlett’s familiar voice drifted from my left, echoing down a short, hidden corridor.

I instinctively pivoted toward the sound. I took a tentative, frightened step forward into the void. The moment the heel of my heavy boot struck the floor, a sensor tripped. A row of track lighting along the baseboards flared to life, illuminating a path through the gloom.

*Well, thank fuck.*

The sudden glow revealed that the pitch-black space before me was actually a long, stark marble lobby leading toward an adjoining room at the far end. I dragged in a jagged breath, clutching the strap of my bag like a lifeline, and navigated the cold corridor, guided purely by the sound of my cousin's voice.

I rounded a sharp corner and stepped into a sprawling, cavernous office. It was decorated in black, mirroring the sinister, oppressive aesthetic of the hallway. Scarlett was lounging casually across a large, half-moon leather sofa.

However, Scarlett was not alone.

Positioned behind a massive, heavy mahogany desk sat the most staggeringly gorgeous man I had ever laid eyes upon. The air in the room felt thick, charged with a lethal, magnetic gravity. His piercing emerald green gaze instantly locked onto me. Those vibrant eyes dragged over my body in a slow, calculating, and predatory perusal. His sharply chiseled jaw visibly clenched, radiating an intense, undeniable disapproval at my messy clothes and disheveled appearance. He looked like a man who never waited for anyone, let alone someone who looked like a walking disaster.

His full lips pulled into a slight frown, and he tipped his chin up as he assessed me. I noted with genuine shock that he was significantly younger than I had anticipated for a notorious mob boss. I expected gray hair and a weathered face. Instead, this man possessed a heavily muscled, imposing frame that practically fought to burst through the sleeves of his impeccably tailored, expensive dark Armani suit.

The soft arch of his manicured brows ticked upward in dark amusement as he shifted his brilliant green gaze toward my gorgeous cousin. The silent message was loud and clear: *This is her? This is who I’ve been waiting for?*

I swallowed the huge lump of anxiety forming in my throat and scowled right back at him. I deliberately tore my eyes away from his intimidating presence to focus on Scarlett instead.

"Hello, cousin," Scarlett said, a bright smile on her face. "Long time no see."

"Hey," I choked out.

I noticed the man’s green eyes narrow sharply at the sound of my voice, his silent judgment burning holes into the side of my head.

Scarlett looked like a million bucks. Her bright turquoise eyes popped against heavy silver and charcoal eyeliner. Despite the fact that I hadn't actually seen her in a year, she looked exactly the same. Gorgeous and deadly. Her short, edgy cap of bright red hair cradled her deceptively doll-like face, shimmering under the track lighting with every little toss of her head. She looked like a high-fashion model, or rather, a mafia princess.

Scarlett instantly leaped up from the black sofa. She crossed the room in quick strides, gathering me into a tight, welcoming hug. Before I could catch my breath, she physically pulled me forward by the arm, dragging me to a halt directly in front of that massive mahogany desk.

My heart slammed against my ribs in a frantic rhythm. Overwhelmed by severe anxiety at being in such close proximity to an actual underworld figure, my nerves shattered.

"I've b-been here for an hour," I complained softly, stuttering uncontrollably as my anxiety rode in on a four-horse carriage. I had never been this close to anything mafia-related in my entire life. Unless you counted Scarlett, which I didn't.

"I know," Scarlett tsk-tsked. She tore her eyes away from mine and shot a glaring look right at her employer. "Somebody needed a little more convincing."

My face flushed hotly. Deeply humiliated by their open scrutiny, I swallowed hard. Convincing? Really? I wasn't a charity case begging for scraps on the street. I shot a harsh glare at the man behind the desk, ignoring the arrogant sneer twisting his lips as he continued to scowl at me.

I turned back to Scarlett, squaring my shoulders to firmly reiterate my previous boundary. "Oh, well... I already told you I am deeply uncomfortable becoming a club dancer. I'm not doing it."

A harsh, derisive snort echoed across the mahogany wood.

The man behind the desk rose from his seat. My breath hitched in my chest. He towered effortlessly over the furniture, standing well over six feet tall. His broad shoulders seemed to block out the dim lighting behind him.

"Wrap this situation up, Scarlett," he commanded with casual, firm authority. "I need to be on my way."

My ears practically singed. His voice was incredibly smooth and rich, possessing a dark, velvety quality that sent a shiver racing down my spine. My cheeks burned hotly as he casually crossed his massive arms over his chest. The expensive fabric of his Armani suit strained over the thick curves of his biceps as he glared down at me with undisguised contempt.

"Right," Scarlett agreed, spinning back to face me. Her electric blue eyes twinkled with playful mischief. "You're not being hired as a dancer, Kae. I secured you a position as a live-in maid instead."

A wave of profound, immediate relief washed over me, so intense my knees nearly buckled.

"Live-in?!" I squeaked, unable to mask my sudden joy. "Thank God! That is perfect! That will miraculously solve my dire homelessness issue! I knew I could count on you, Scar. I just knew you wouldn't let me down."

The crushing weight of sleeping on the streets vanished. In my overwhelming thrill to secure a quiet, unexciting life and a safe place to sleep, I babbled enthusiastically, my words tumbling out in a frantic rush.

"You know how scared I am of these places," I continued, gesturing vaguely to the dark club around us. "You know how much I need a quiet, unexciting life. A safe place to sleep. How did you even manage to set this up? Where do I sign? Who am I going to be working for?"

I beamed at her, overwhelmed with gratitude.

In my blinding thrill to secure a roof over my head, I missed the warning signs. I failed to notice the deeply worried purse of Scarlett’s lips. I missed the brief, agonizing flash of guilt that crossed her flawless, doll-like face. I was too excited. Too desperate. Too thrilled that I didn't have to strip naked for cash and that a safe bed was being handed to me.

The brutal reality of the situation did not dawn on me until my frantic babbling died down, and the vast office plunged into a dead, suffocating silence.

The quiet dragged out, thick and heavy like a tomb.

Then, the towering man behind the desk cleared his throat in blatant annoyance, shattering the silence.

Scarlett flinched slightly. She turned toward him, then gestured formally.

"Kaelia, let me introduce you to Bastian Navarro," Scarlett stated, her voice losing its playful edge. She looked me dead in the eyes, dropping the ultimate bombshell. "He is your new employer. You will be living exclusively with him as his personal maid. And you are scheduled to leave with him for his estate... right at this exact moment."

My stomach plummeted to the floor with the force of a ton of bricks.

All the blood rapidly drained from my face. My skin turned ice-cold.

*Bastian Navarro.*

The name echoed in my skull like a death knell. I was hit hard by a sudden, unstoppable influx of terrifying memories. Flashes of grim late-night news reports blinded my mind's eye. Stories of unidentified dead bodies dumped in the river. Dark criminal speculation broadcasted across every channel. The violent, bloody demises consistently and quietly attached to the name Bastian Navarro. The ruthless, glamorous shadow who ran this city's underworld.

I stared in paralyzed horror at the man standing behind the desk.

He stared back. His emerald eyes held a ruthless, cold calculation. The sheer dominance radiating from his massive frame pinned me in place. He watched my terror bloom, his gaze silently daring me to refuse the arrangement. Daring me to step back.

I was rooted in paralyzing terror. My throat closed up. My chest tightened until I couldn't draw a full breath. I deeply, profoundly regretted agreeing to come to this club. I regretted walking through those heavy marble doors.

I was now in the immediate custody of a known mafia killer.

My frozen brain short-circuited. Out of all the screams building in my chest, my numb lips could only manage to utter a single, breathless word.

"What?"