The Clumsy Maid Gave a Bath to a Mafia Boss’s Dog- Then he Refused to Let Her Go

Chapter 1

“I am so sorry. Step away from my dog.”

Maya Ellison had been a maid at Vincent Castellano’s estate for exactly six days when she emptied two buckets of warm water over the most dangerous dog in the city. One second she was crossing the frozen service courtyard with cleaning supplies balanced against her hip. The next, her worn shoe slipped. Both buckets flew from her hands, and nearly four gallons of soapy water crashed over a massive black Cane Corso.

Every servant in the courtyard stopped breathing. Duke weighed almost a hundred and fifty pounds, obeyed only the mafia boss who owned him, and had sent the last professional groomer away with eight stitches. Maya remained on the ground, staring into the dog’s dark eyes while water dripped from his face like an insult.

“I am so sorry,” she whispered. Duke lowered his head and released a growl that vibrated through the stone beneath her palms. Then a colder voice came from the doorway behind him.

“Step away from my dog.”

Maya looked up and saw Vincent Castellano watching her, the feared mafia boss whose name made powerful men lower their voices. He stood beneath the stone archway in a black overcoat, broad-shouldered and completely still, with two armed men several steps behind him. Snow had begun collecting in his dark hair, but he appeared not to notice the cold. Maya had seen him only twice since taking the job. The first time had been from the far end of a dining room while he spoke quietly to men who looked terrified to interrupt him. The second had been through a window as he crossed the gardens with Duke at his side. She had expected the owner of such an estate to move loudly, surrounded by orders and attention. Vincent did not. Rooms became quieter before he entered them.

Maya placed one hand on the wet stone and tried to rise. Her shoe slipped again. Duke’s growl deepened.

“I said, step away.” Vincent repeated.

“I’m trying.” Heat climbed into Maya’s face. She could feel every pair of eyes in the courtyard — the gardeners, the kitchen staff, the guards, and Isabella Cross, the elegant woman who had arrived for breakfast in a white coat and heels too delicate for winter.

Maya could already hear the laughter that would follow her into the staff hall. Six days. Grant had said she wouldn’t last one week. She had hated him for saying it and hated herself more for remembering it now.

“She can’t even stand up,” Isabella said, not quite softly enough. “Perhaps the dog will finish what the tray did yesterday.” A few servants looked down. Maya knew exactly which tray she meant. She had dropped a silver coffee tray during Isabella’s visit the morning before. Nothing had broken, but the cups had rattled loudly enough for every person in the breakfast room to turn. Isabella had smiled and called her charmingly hopeless. Vincent had said nothing then.

Now his gaze moved briefly toward Isabella, and the small smile vanished from her face. Maya pushed herself upright. Duke did not move. His body remained low, thick muscles rigid beneath his soaked black coat. But instead of looking at his teeth, Maya looked at the rest of him. His ears were pinned back. His breathing was too fast. His left hind leg trembled each time he shifted his weight. A leather lead hung from the hand of the estate groomer standing near the stable doors, and every time the metal clasp clicked, Duke’s eyes moved toward it.

“He isn’t angry because he’s wet,” Maya said. “He’s afraid someone is going to restrain him again.”

Vincent’s attention sharpened. “You reached that conclusion while lying on the ground.”

“I had a good view.”

Isabella gave a short laugh. No one joined her.

Vincent stepped into the courtyard. Duke glanced toward him but did not relax. “Duke does not fear water.”

“Maybe not,” Maya said. “But he fears what usually happens around it.” The groomer lifted the lead. Duke’s lips pulled back. Maya pointed before thinking better of it. “Put it down.”

The groomer stared at her. “You have worked here six days.”

“The dog doesn’t know how long I’ve worked here.”

“Enough,” Vincent said. The single word silenced everyone. He looked at the groomer. “Put it down.” The man lowered the lead. Duke’s growl faded, though his breathing remained fast.

Maya rubbed her damp palms against her skirt. She knew she should apologize, collect the buckets, and disappear into the laundry wing before someone decided humiliation wasn’t sufficient punishment. Instead, she looked at the dog’s soaked coat and the ice forming around the edges of the courtyard.

“He needs to be dried.”

Vincent’s expression revealed nothing. “That is not your concern.”

“I made him wet.”

“You did.”

“Then let me fix it.”

Isabella turned toward Vincent. “Surely you are not considering allowing the maid who cannot cross a courtyard to handle Duke.” Maya’s face burned, but Vincent kept looking at the dog.

“The last groomer required surgery.”

“The last groomer tried to drag him into a metal tub,” Maya said. “I saw the room yesterday when I was cleaning the west wing. The floor is slippery, the spray is loud, and there are restraint hooks on the wall. If his hip hurts, every part of that room tells him he’s about to be trapped while someone causes more pain.” The estate veterinarian, Dr. Ethan Cole, had mentioned Duke’s arthritis to the kitchen staff that morning. Maya hadn’t meant to listen, but Duke’s name had carried through the open door while she polished the hall table.

Vincent’s eyes narrowed. “And you believe you can do better?”

Maya looked at Duke. Water ran from his jaw and formed a dark pool around his paws. “I believe I can make it less frightening.”

“That is not the same thing.”

“No,” she said. “It’s more important.”

For several seconds, the only sound in the courtyard was the wind. Then Vincent removed his gloves. “What do you need?”

Isabella stared at him. Maya was nearly as surprised. “The laundry room,” Maya said. “Rubber floor mats. Warm water and buckets. Not the spray hose. Towels. No chains. No one inside except me.”

Vincent’s gaze dropped to her wet shoe. “You can barely remain standing.”

“I’m better when nobody’s watching me try.”