DOMINANT BY MY BOSS

**Lyla’s POV** The El Massimo Estate always smelled like money and secrets — expensive leather, aged whiskey, and something sharper underneath, like blood money.My black maid uniform clung to my back as I hurried down the east wing corridor, arms full of crisp white linens. Six months here, and I still felt like prey walking through a predator’s den. Russo El Massimo ruled this city. They called him the King for a reason. Cold. Unreadable. Terrifying. I’d learned early to keep my head down and my eyes away whenever he passed. But tonight, the head butler had pulled me aside with a nervous twitch in his jaw. “Master suite. Fresh sheets. Don’t linger.” My stomach knotted. No one got sent to his private wing alone unless he asked for them specifically. Red rose petals scattered across the marble like fresh blood. I crushed one under my shoe as I reached the tall black doors. My knock was soft. Respectful. “Enter.” His voice slid through the wood — low, commanding, the kind that made the air feel heavier. I pushed the door open. The master suite was pure dark luxury: charcoal silk draping the massive four-poster bed, a fire roaring in the marble hearth, lightning flashing beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. Russo stood by the glass, back to me, suit jacket tossed over a chair. His black shirt sleeves were rolled up, revealing corded forearms and faint scars that spoke of a violent past. “Put them on the bed,” he said without turning. I moved quickly, smoothing the sheets with shaking hands. When I turned to leave, his voice stopped me cold. “Lyla.” Hearing my name on his lips sent a jolt through me. I froze. “Yes, Mr. El Massimo?” He turned slowly. Lightning lit his sharp features for a split second — high cheekbones, dark obsidian eyes that pinned me in place. He took one step, then another. I backed up until my spine hit the carved bedpost. “You’ve been avoiding me,” he murmured, voice velvet over steel. “Always looking away. Always slipping out of rooms the moment I walk in. Why?” I swallowed hard. “I’m just… doing my job, sir.” A ghost of a smile touched his lips — not warm, not kind. Dangerous. He closed the distance until I could smell whiskey and rain on his skin. He didn’t touch me, but the heat of him made my uniform feel too tight, too thin. “Liar,” he whispered. One finger lifted my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Tell me the truth. Do you think about me at night? Do you touch yourself imagining what I’d do to you?”Heat flooded my face. My thighs pressed together. The words slipped out before I could stop them. “…Yes."His eyes darkened. “Good girl.” For one breathless moment I thought he’d kiss me — or take everything right there against the bedpost. Instead, he stepped back, voice turning ice-cold again. “Go back to your room.”I fled on unsteady legs, rose petals crushed beneath my shoes. My body burned where he’d barely touched me. Shame and need twisted together until I couldn’t tell them apart. ******** Later that night, the storm howled outside my tiny basement room. I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face. Around 2 a.m., heavy footsteps stopped outside my door.My heart slammed against my ribs. The lock clicked open from the outside,Russo stood in the doorway like he owned the shadows themselves. Black shirt unbuttoned at the collar, hair slightly messy, eyes locked on me.He didn’t step inside. Not fully. “On your knees,” he said softly. My body obeyed before my mind could catch up. The wooden floor was cold and hard against my skin.He crouched in front of me, cupping my jaw with surprising gentleness. His thumb brushed my cheek. “When I come for you again,” he murmured, “you won’t make me wait. You’ll open the door before I even touch the handle. Understand?"I nodded, voice barely a whisper. “Yes… Master.” His breathing hitched — just once. Satisfaction flashed in his eyes.“Good.” He stood, towering over me again. “Now go back to bed. And think about what happens to girls who lie to me.” He left as quietly as he came. The lock clicked shut behind him.I stayed on my knees for a long time, heart racing, body aching with want and fear. ***** My body still remembered every word he had said. Every look. Every place his fingers had touched for only a second. I woke up sore in places that had no right to be sore—not from anything real, but from wanting so badly it hurt. I dragged myself out of bed at 5:30 like always, showered with cold water to wake up my brain and punish my body at the same time, then pulled on the same black uniform, the same white apron, and the same sensible shoes that made no sound. I tied my hair back tight so nothing would fall in my face while I worked. I told myself today would be normal. I would clean. I would keep my head down. I would not look for him. Lies. All of it. When I reached the main kitchen, Mia was already there, yawning over a cup of instant coffee. Her red hair was a mess, sticking up everywhere. “Morning, ghost girl,” she said with a sleepy grin. “You look like death warmed over.” “Thanks.” I grabbed a mug and poured myself some too. It tasted like burnt dirt. Fiona came in next, rubbing her eyes. She was the youngest, only nineteen, and always looked half-asleep. “Did anyone hear footsteps last night?” she whispered. “Like… heavy ones. In the basement corridor.” My stomach dropped. Mia laughed, but I stayed quiet, my heart racing faster. “Probably Tom sneaking to the wine cellar again,” Mia said. “That man thinks no one notices when a bottle goes missing.” Fiona frowned. “It didn’t sound like Tom. It sounded… bigger.” I kept my face blank and sipped my coffee. Inside, my heart was racing again. Mia leaned closer to me. “You okay, Lyla? You’re pale.” “I’m fine. I just didn’t sleep well.” “Because of the storm?” Fiona asked. I nodded. It was easier than explaining the truth. Bernstein appeared in the doorway like he always did—sudden and silent. Everyone straightened up. “Morning duties,” he said in his usual clipped voice. “Lyla, you’re on the west library today. Full dust and polish. Mr. El Massimo will be working there this afternoon. Do not disturb him. Do not speak unless spoken to. Clear?” My mouth went dry. “Yes, sir.” He gave me one long look, like he knew something, then left. Mia whistled low. “West library? Alone with the boss? Girl, what did you do?” “Nothing,” I said too fast. Fiona giggled. “Maybe he likes quiet maids.” ***