THE CEO'S WORK MAID

At the center of the city is the blackthorn's mansion, a mansion always known to be icily cold. Well guarded iron gates, laced with security cameras and armed guards that warned outsiders to keep their distance. Inside the house, luxury dripped from every cornermarble floors, gold-trimmed furniture, and crystal chandeliers. Yet, despite its grandeur, the air inside was suffocating, thick with silent authority and power.In the grand hall, a line of maids stood stiffly, hands clasped, eyes lowered. Among them was Ava Carter, her uniform freshly pressed, her hands trembling slightly.

She had only been working here for two days, and already, she had learned one thing Dylan Blackthorn was not a man to be crossed.Ava was breathtakingly beautiful, though she did everything to conceal it. Her golden-brown hair was always tied back in a neat bun, and her emerald-green eyes rarely met anyone's gaze. Her delicate features, framed by soft waves that often escaped her bun, hinted at a beauty far beyond a maid's station. But life had not been kind to her. Orphaned at a young age, she had spent her years struggling to survive, forced into servitude to pay off an inherited debt. She had learned to stay invisible, to obey without question, and to never draw attention to herself.The infamous CEO and mafia lord was known for his ruthlessness. Whether in business or in the underworld, he controlled everything with an iron fist. His name alone sent chills through the elite and the criminals alike. And today, Ava would come face to face with him for the first time."Stand straight. He doesn't tolerate weakness," whispered an older maid beside her.Before Ava could process the warning, the heavy double doors swung open. A sharp silence fell over the room.Dylan Blackthorn stepped inside, his presence commanding instant obedience. He was tall, strikingly handsome, with jet-black hair that framed his chiseled face. His piercing gray eyes swept over the staff like a blade, assessing, dissecting, demanding submission. Dressed in a tailored black suit, he exuded danger and control. His features were sharp, almost cruel in their perfection-high cheekbones, a strong jawline, and lips that never seemed to smile.His body was built with disciplined strength, broad-shouldered and powerful, a presence that dominated every space he entered. Yet, beneath his sculpted exterior was a man feared by many. Dylan was ruthless, cold, and calculated a predator in an empire he had built with blood and power. His world was one of absolute control, and he had no tolerance for weakness or mistakes.The maids dipped their heads lower. Ava swallowed hard, trying to shrink into the background.His gaze moved across the line of servants until it landed on her.For a moment, she couldn't breathe. The weight of his stare was suffocating, freezing her in place. Those eyes held no warmth, only calculated curiosity."Who is this?" His voice was low, smooth, yet sharp enough to cut.Ava's heart slammed against her ribs. She couldn't move, couldn't speak.The head butler quickly stepped forward. "Sir, this is Ava Carter, the new maid."Vincent's eyes flickered with something unreadable. Then, he turned away as if she were insignificant."Make sure she knows the rules," he said coldly, before striding past them, his presence like a storm in a suit.Ava exhaled shakily. It was her first encounter with the master of the house. And she already knew-Surviving in this mansion would be harder than she had ever imagined.---Ava's official meeting with Dylan happened unexpectedly the next morning. She had been assigned to clean his private study, an enormous room lined with dark bookshelves and a massive mahogany desk. The scent of leather and rich cologne clung to the air. She moved carefully, making sure not to disturb anything. But as she reached for a crystal decanter on a nearby table, her fingers slipped.The expensive glass tumbled, shattering against the floor.Her breath caught in her throat. Panic seized her limbs as she dropped to her knees, frantically gathering the shards. Her heart pounded-she had broken something. And in this house, mistakes were not tolerated."I don't recall hiring a clumsy maid."Ava froze.That voice.Slowly, she lifted her head, her emerald eyes locking onto a pair of cold, piercing grays. Dylan Blackthorn stood near the doorway, watching her with an unreadable expression. His tailored suit fit him perfectly, exuding power and dominance. He stepped forward, his polished shoes stopping just inches from her trembling hands."I-I'm sorry, sir," she stammered, bowing her head. "It was an accident.""Accidents are unacceptable in my house."His voice was calm, yet it carried an unmistakable edge of danger. He crouched down slightly, his intense gaze studying her like she was a puzzle he intended to solve. Ava could feel her pulse hammering in her ears. She had heard stories about him-about his cruelty, his control. But standing this close, she felt something else beneath the intimidation. Something unreadable.He reached out, and for a fleeting second, she thought he might touch her face. Instead, he grasped her wrist, lifting her hand slightly. She flinched but remained still."Your hands are shaking," he observed. "Are you afraid of me, Ava?"She hesitated before whispering, "Yes."A flicker of amusement passed through his expression. He let go of her wrist and stood up, brushing an invisible speck of dust from his sleeve."Good," he murmured. "Fear keeps people in line."With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Ava kneeling on the floor, her heart still racing. She had met the master of the house now, and she knew one thing for certain-Dylan Blackthorn was a man who would ruin her if she wasn't careful."

Ava had tossed and turned all night reliving her encounter with Dylan Blackthorn. His words, his touch, the way his silver-gray eyes seemed to see right through her-it was enough to keep her awake hours after she had retired to her tiny maid's room in the basement of the mansion.

She'd met powerful men before, but not one such as he. Dylan didn't just take over a room; he owned it. His presence alone was suffocating, charismatic, and downright terrifying. And now, she'd made a mistake in front of him. A mistake that could lose her the only job she had to keep her off the streets.

Morning came too soon, and with it, a new set of duties. Today, she had been assigned to clean the master suite. The same room where Dylan Blackthorn slept. The very thought made her stomach twist into knots.

Ava hesitated in front of the door before she finally opened it. The room was enormous-black and gray dominating, sleek and modern, yet oddly impersonal. Everything was positioned with exactness, as if the man who slept here ruled even his own surroundings with an iron hand.

Bracing herself with a steadying breath, she got to work. Dusting bookshelves carefully, straightening furniture, and tending to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the expansive estate. It wasn't until she came to the massive king-sized bed that she realized how close a proximity she was to his life. The faint scent of his cologne still lingered on the silk sheets, dark and intoxicating.

She promptly pushed the idea aside. This wasn't her world. She was a maid.

She had just begun to fluff the pillows when the gentle click of the door closing behind her caused her to panic, as a shiver traveled down her spine. She spun around, her breath catching in her throat.

Dylan Blackthorn stood in the doorway, his piercing eyes on her.

"You're in my room." His voice was low, but it was deadly in tone.

Ava stepped back involuntarily, hugging the pillow that had been in her hands. "I-I was just cleaning, sir."

He took another step forward, his gaze never wavering from hers. "I don't recall granting anyone permission to enter my personal space without an invitation."

She gulped. "I was working on-"

"I don't care what you were ordered to do." His tone was clipped, yet beneath it lay something dark and unreadable. "Do you have any idea what becomes of people who cross boundaries in my house?"

Ava's heart was racing uncontrollably. "I... I didn't intend any disrespect."

Dylan looked at her without a word, his expression expressionless. And then, to her utter surprise, a smile lingered on his lips. It was not warm. It was not gentle. It was a predator's smile, having trapped its prey.

"Tell me, Ava," he spoke, his voice low and measured. "Are you afraid of me?"

Her fists clenched on the pillow. "Yes."

His smirk increased slightly. "Good."

She thought he would dismiss her then, but he moved in closer instead. Too close. She could sense the heat radiating from him, his presence wrapping itself around her like an invisible shackle. He leaned across her, deliberately touching her arm as he retrieved something from the nightstand-a cufflink, as if he'd suddenly realized it was missing.

But Ava was not fooled. He was testing her. Observing her response.

Her heart raced as she forced herself to keep her eyes lowered, her breath shallow and controlled. She didn't dare move, didn't dare flinch, even when the scent of his cologne wrapped around her, suffocatingly intoxicating.

Finally, he moved back, his presence no longer looming over her. But the weight of his attention remained.

"Finish your assignment," he ordered, his voice level but commanding. "And in the future, wait for my permission."

Ava did not dare move until she heard the door click shut behind him. Only then did she breathe shakily, her hands trembling slightly as she gripped the pillow more tightly.

She had only just escaped that confrontation. And a little voice inside informed her that Dylan Blackthorn wasn't finished with her yet. Not even close.

Ava spent the rest of the day going out of her way to steer clear of Dylan Blackthorn. She limited herself to the kitchen, the lower decks, and made sure that whatever work she had, it did not involve approaching his office or personal quarters. Still, distance was not enough, for she could not shake the sensation of his eyes from her mind.

Nightfall had tiredness creep into her body, but sleep was eluding her. The mansion was colder than usual, the silence pressing down on her as she curled up on the thin mat in the little maid's room. Any creak the house produced had her tensing, still reeling from the experience with Vincent.

She had been scared. But a stupid, little part of her had also felt something else.

Curious.

She brushed the idea aside and curled up on her side, huddling the blanket around herself. She would keep her head down and work the following day, and not draw any additional attention. That was the only way of surviving here.

But fate had other plans.

***

The next day, Ava was washing the grand staircase when the atmosphere was interrupted by a harsh voice.

"You. Come with me."

She stood stock still, the wet cloth held tightly in her hands, then looked up slowly. Dylan stood at the top of the stairs, dressed in yet another of his impeccably tailored suits, his expression impassive.

Her pulse raced. "Sir?"

He did not repeat himself. He simply turned and departed, waiting for her to follow.

Ava hesitated. Disobedience was not on the agenda.

She hastily wiped her hands on the apron and ran after him, her feet light on the marble floors. He led her down the long, dark corridors of the mansion, only breaking step when he reached the end of the hall and a large wooden door.

He opened it and entered. Ava was reluctant to go in.

It was his workplace.

The room was enormous, with dark furniture and floor-to-ceiling shelves of books. There was a large window overlooking the estate, and at the center of it all was a huge desk-his throne.

He strolled around the desk and leaned against it, staring at her with cool intensity. "Do you know why you're here?"

Her hands were tightly clenched at her sides. "I... I don't, sir."

His eyes, which were silver-gray, sparkled. "You've been avoiding me."

Her heart skipped a beat. Was this a trick? Was he seeking a denial?

"I haven't-"

"Don't lie to me, Ava."

Her breath hitched. The tone of his voice, the way he said her name, gave her the shivers. He was not loud, but the intensity of his presence made the atmosphere around her become dense and oppressive.

She swallowed. "I did not want to... interrupt."

A slow smile curled his lips. "You think a maid would be capable of upending my life?"

She winced inwardly. "No, sir."

His smile disappeared, his eyes growing dark. He stood up from behind the desk and slowly made his way toward her. "And yet, somehow, you did."

Ava's breath caught. He was standing too close. Too overwhelming.

She backed away, and he advanced, closing the gap with an unnerving facility. He reached out, the tips of his fingers grazing the faded hem of her apron before raising his eyes back up into hers.

"You intrigue me, Ava."

Her heart pounded so loudly that she was sure he could hear it. "I... I don't mean to."

"But you do."

The room felt impossibly small, the air thick with unspoken tension. She knew she should lower her gaze, keep her eyes downcast like she always did. But for the first time, she couldn't bring herself to avert her eyes from him.

He looked at her for a moment, then finally stood back, his expression impassive once more.

"I've decided," he said, returning behind his desk. "You will be directly assigned to serve me from now on."

Ava's stomach dropped. "What?"

"You will see after my meals, my studies, my quarters. Whatever I may need." He regarded her, his voice leaving no room for dispute. "You will be my personal maid."

Ava felt the ground shift beneath her feet. This was not possible.

"Sir, I-"

"Do you have a problem with that?"

She hesitated, her mind racing. Saying no wasn't an option. But saying yes...

"I... No, sir."

A satisfied smile spread across his lips. "Good."

She forced herself to nod, but panic churned in the pit of her belly.

She had spent the whole time trying to stay out of his way.

And now, she was part of his world.

Ava had prepared herself for life at the Blackthorn mansion being difficult, but this was something else entirely.

The moment Dylan had declared her his personal maid, everything was altered. Before, she was just one of the nameless maids at the house, someone whose presence could be easily ignored. Now, she was at his beck and call, being brought into his presence, made to serve his every caprice. And the most infuriating thing? He enjoyed watching her squirm.

Her day of direct service with him started early. She was summoned before breakfast, barely having time to fasten her apron before being escorted into his private study.

The moment she stepped in, she could feel the intensity of his gaze.

He sat behind his vast mahogany desk, reading a stack of papers with a look of absolute authority. The early morning light cut across the high windows, casting long shadows that only helped to make him seem even more formidable. In a crisp black suit, with his silver-gray eyes flashing up at hers, he was the quintessential ruthless CEO-and the menacing mafia lord lurking just below the surface.

"Good," he said quietly, setting down his papers. "You're learning to be punctual."

Ava lowered her head. "Sir, what would you like me to do?"

He leaned back in his chair, watching her. "You will see to everything concerning me. That includes my meals, my study, my quarters... and whatever else I decide."

A shiver ran down her spine. The measured tone with which he had said those last words made her stomach turn.

"Yes, sir."

He smirked at her acquiescence, as if measuring just how much further he could push. "Pour me a drink."

Ava hesitated for a fraction of a moment before making a beeline for the bar cart in the corner of the room. She grabbed a crystal glass and a bottle of aged whiskey, pouring a measured shot before bringing it carefully to him.

He did not take it immediately. Instead, his fingers brushed against hers as he accepted the glass, his hand lingering a fraction of a moment longer than required. Ava froze but forced herself not to move.

He grinned, sipping slowly. "You flinch every time I touch you."

Her breath caught in her throat. "I-"

"Why?"

She swallowed. How could she possibly answer? Because he scared her? Because being near him was like standing on the brink of a precipice?

"Respect, sir," she said softly, keeping her gaze on the ground.

Dylan chuckled, the sound dark and amused. "Respect. Interesting choice of words."

He set the glass down, rising from his chair. Ava instinctively took a step back, but he was faster, closing the distance between them with smooth precision.

He reached out, catching a stray strand of her hair between his fingers. "You've been running from me since the moment we met," he murmured, his voice dangerously smooth. "And yet, here you are."

Ava forced herself to remain still. "Because it's my job."

His gaze darkened. "That's not the only reason."

She bit down on the inside of her cheek, unwilling to let it show. But Dylan was reading her all too easily. He tilted his head, as if attempting to crack the mystery of Ava Hayes.

"You're different from the others," he mused. "They fear me. You do too, but not in the same way."

She didn't know how to respond.

Before she could speak, a sharp knock on the door interrupted the moment. Vincent's face transformed instantly-back to cold indifference.

"Enter."

The door opened, and a well-dressed, tall man stepped inside. He was a commanding figure, with dark eyes that darted for a moment toward Ava before focusing on Vincent.

"Sir, there's an issue with the shipment," the man reported. "It's urgent."

Vincent's jaw tightened. "I'll handle it."

The man nodded brusquely and left as abruptly as he had come.

Dylan turned back to Ava, his expression unreadable. "You will stay in my quarters while I'm gone. Do not leave."