Maris Lane carefully settled the thick towel around seven-year-old Asher’s shoulders

Maris carefully took the soft cashmere clothing from Orson’s hands, her fingers briefly brushing against his. A jolt of electricity shot up her arm, sending a sudden, intense warmth through her shivering frame.

“Thank you, sir,” Maris whispered, her American accent barely audible in the quiet room.

“Will you take all the time you need to warm up?” Orson asked, gesturing toward the guest bathroom.

Maris retreated into the bathroom, shutting the heavy wooden door behind her. She quickly peeled off the sophisticated black maid dress, the damp fabric heavy and uncomfortable. She dried her skin with a plush towel and slipped into Orson’s clothing. The cashmere sweater was impossibly soft and smelled faintly of his expensive cologne—a dark, intoxicating blend of cedar and spice. The sleeves swallowed her hands, and the pants were miles too long, requiring her to roll the waist and the hems, but the sheer, enveloping warmth was heavenly.

When she stepped back into the master suite, Orson was standing by the roaring marble fireplace. He was holding a crystal glass with a small measure of amber whiskey, his cold, observant eyes staring deeply into the flames.

He turned his head as she entered. He took in the sight of the beautiful woman drowning in his clothes, and the harsh, angular lines of his face softened significantly.

“Are you feeling better, Maris?” Orson asked, his voice a low, mesmerizing rumble.

“Much better. Thank you,” Maris answered, stepping tentatively closer to the fire.

“Would you care for a drink to calm your nerves?” Orson asked, gesturing to a crystal decanter resting on a side table.

“I shouldn't, sir. I am still on duty,” Maris replied, her expressive brows drawing together.

“Do you believe you are still merely an employee to me after tonight?” Orson asked, taking a slow sip of his whiskey, his perceptive eyes never leaving her face.

Maris stood frozen, her heart hammering violently against her ribs. The warm, elegant light from the fire illuminated the powerful, masculine breadth of his shoulders.

“I don't know what I am, Mr. Vale,” Maris admitted honestly, her rosy cheeks flushing a deep pink.

“Why did you risk your life for him?” Orson asked, stepping away from the fireplace and closing the distance between them.

“He was drowning, sir,” Maris said, looking up into his incredibly handsome face. “She was holding him down. I didn't think about the consequences. I just reacted. I love him.”

“Did you know what happens to those who cross me or my family?” Orson asked, stopping just inches from her, his towering frame casting a protective shadow over her slender figure.

“I knew she was your fiancée. I knew she was powerful,” Maris breathed, tilting her head back to maintain eye contact. “But I couldn't let her hurt him. Even if it cost me my job. Or my life.”

“Do you possess a death wish, or simply a courage that embarrasses the men who work for me?” Orson asked.

He reached out with his right hand. The refined hand and finger tattoos flexed as he gently tucked a damp, loose strand of hair behind her ear. The touch was electric, a stark, breathtaking contrast to the violence he had unleashed earlier in the evening.

“I just wanted him to be safe,” Maris whispered, leaning infinitesimally into the warmth of his large hand.

“Will you accept a new position in this house, Maris?” Orson asked, his gaze dropping briefly to her lips before returning to her eyes.

“What kind of position?” Maris asked, her heart racing.

“Would you prefer to assume the role of Asher’s personal governess, answering to absolutely no one in this family but me?” Orson asked.

Maris stared at him, overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of the offer. A governess was a position of high respect and immense trust, offering a salary and security that far exceeded her role as a housemaid. It meant she would no longer be invisible; she would be a central figure in the life of the mafia boss's only son.

“Are you serious, Mr. Vale?” Maris asked, a radiant, beautiful smile breaking across her fair face.