THE MAFIA'S THRONE.

LUCIAN'S POV. The summer breeze felt good beneath my skin, like a soft slap from nature reminding me I was still alive. I pushed the mower across the thick green lawn, sweat clinging to my back, my worn-out sneakers sinking into the earth. Around me, the air smelled like chlorine, barbecue smoke, and money I would never have. Laughter echoed from the pool area. Rich kids in designer swimwear splashed and drank from red cups, tossing beach balls like their lives depended on it. One guy…probably the third son of some oil magnate…did a cannonball into the pool, and the girls shrieked like it was the highlight of their lives. I didn’t look at them for long. I had to finish the lawn before noon. That was the deal. Mow the front, trim the hedges, sweep the patio. Then I could rest. Maybe. If no one needed me for something else. My name’s Lucian Parker. Eighteen.Poor. And very aware of it. I live with my mom in the downhills of West Texas, in a two-room apartment that smells like old carpet and something floral. We don’t have much, but she makes it feel like home. Every summer, I work at the Lockwood estate to sustain my scholarship at MMA—Money Makers Academy. That name always made me laugh. The kids there had money printed on their genes. Me? I had to work to stay afloat. I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand and glanced at the house. The Lockwoods’ place was huge…three stories of glass, stone, and wealth. Everything about it screamed you don’t belong here. Except, I did. As a servant. It was Zach who got me the job. My best friend. My only friend, really. We met on the first day of school, when I was the new kid with no lunch money and torn sneakers. He sat next to me in math and said, "Those formulas suck, don’t they?" I nodded, and that was it. Friendship. Zach wasn’t like the other rich kids. He didn’t care that my shirts were faded or that my backpack looked like it had been passed down for generations. He wanted to be a top student, same as me. He had dreams…real ones, not just the kind money buys you. His parents? Different story. Rumors say they’re into something illegal…money laundering, arms dealing, who knows. None of my business. I’m here to work. Keep my head down. Get paid. I was pushing the mower toward the far end of the yard when a soft voice floated through the air. "Hi, Lucian." I froze. That voice. I looked up, and there she was. Shayla. The prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. No exaggeration. Her hair was tied back in a loose braid, strands of it falling around her face. Her sundress swayed in the breeze, and her eyes…God, her eyes…looked at me like I was a person. Not just the help. "Hi... hi," I stammered. But she was already walking away, a soft smile on her lips. She always smiled like that. Like she wasn’t aware of the damage she caused. Shayla Lockwood. Zach’s younger sister. Untouchable. Perfect. Everything I wasn’t. I watched her disappear around the corner and let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. If Zach ever found out I liked her... God. He’d murder me. Bury me in the backyard and use my bones as garden décor. I turned the mower back on, trying to focus. But my mind kept drifting. Shayla. The girl who said my name like she felt same way. ★★★ I finished the lawn and went to the back patio, wiping my hands on my jeans. Zach was there, tossing a football to some guy who looked like he was made of protein shakes and entitlement. "Yo! Lucian!" Zach grinned and jogged over. "Man, you look like hell." "Thanks," I muttered. "Good to see you, too." He threw an arm over my shoulder, pulling me into a rough hug. "Come on, I’m just messing. You done with the yard?" "Yeah. Front and back." "Good. Take a break. There’s lemonade inside." I nodded, and started to head in, but he called after me. "Hey, wait. You see Shayla? Haven't seen her all day..” I paused. Swallowed. "Yeah, I saw her at the garden not long ago” He narrowed his eyes, not angry, just curious. "If she had said something to you, it doesn't mean anything." "Didn’t say it did." He shrugged and jogged back to his friend. My stomach twisted. I walked into the kitchen and poured myself some lemonade, hands still dirty. It didn’t matter. No one cared. I leaned against the counter and stared out the window. Shayla was walking across the garden, barefoot, picking petals off a flower. She was too graceful. Too... delicate for a world like this. And I was the last person who deserved to look at her the way I did. ★★★ Later that evening, after dinner was served and the house was quiet, I sat behind the guesthouse, trying to read. My fingers traced the edges of the pages, but my mind wasn’t in the book. Footsteps. I looked up. Shayla. Alone. She hesitated, then sat down beside me on the stone step. "You read a lot," she said softly. "Trying to stay smart," I mumbled. "You don’t have to try. You already are." I turned to her, unsure how to react. Compliments weren’t something I got often. Especially not from girls like her. "Thanks." She tucked her hair behind her ear. "Do you like it here?" I looked around. At the garden. The big house. The emptiness beneath it all. "It’s a job," I said. She nodded. "I hate it sometimes. The fake smiles. The parties. The pretending." I watched her face. She wasn’t smiling now. She looked tired. Sad. "You don’t have to pretend with me," I said quietly. She looked at me like I’d just handed her something she didn’t know she needed. "You’re different, Lucian. I see it." My chest ached. That soft ache of wanting something you know you can’t have. "Zach would kill me for talking to you like this," I said. She laughed. "Let him try. He’s not the boss of me." She stood up, brushed her hands on her dress, then looked back at me. "Goodnight, Lucian." "Goodnight, Shayla." And she was gone. But her scent lingered. Her voice echoed. And I knew that no matter how hard I tried to bury it, this feeling…this pull toward her…was only getting stronger. Spending the summer under one roof with Shayla Lockwood? That was punishment enough. But wanting her... That was going to be hell.