Chapter 1 - The Dog Everyone Feared
Clara Hayes had been a maid at Matteo Moretti’s estate for exactly six days when she emptied two buckets of warm, soapy water over the most dangerous dog in the city.
It was an accident.
Unfortunately, Clara had discovered that accidents did not become less disastrous simply because they were innocent.
One second, she was crossing the frozen service courtyard with cleaning supplies balanced against her hip and two buckets hanging from her hands. The next, the worn sole of her right shoe slid across a thin sheet of ice.
Her arms flew upward.
The buckets did too.
Nearly four gallons of warm water sailed through the cold morning air and crashed directly over Bruno.
Every servant in the courtyard stopped moving.
Clara landed hard on the stone.
One bucket rolled beneath a bench.
The other spun in a slow circle before falling onto its side.
And Bruno stood perfectly still.
He was an enormous black Cane Corso, nearly one hundred and fifty pounds of muscle, scars, and dark watchful eyes. Water streamed from his broad head. White soap slid down his shoulders. Foam hung ridiculously from one ear.
Nobody laughed.
Bruno belonged to Matteo Moretti.
And everyone employed at the estate knew the stories.
Bruno obeyed only Matteo. He tolerated a few guards. He ignored most servants. Three months earlier, a professional groomer had attempted to force him into a stainless-steel bathing station.
The man had left the estate needing eight stitches.
Clara remained on the ground.
Bruno stared at her.
“I am so sorry,” she whispered.
The dog's head lowered.
A deep growl rolled from his chest.
It vibrated through the stone beneath Clara's palms.
Then another voice came from behind him.
Colder.
Quieter.
Far more frightening.
“Step away from my dog.”
Clara slowly raised her eyes.
Matteo Moretti stood beneath the stone archway.
She had seen him only twice since accepting the job.
Neither encounter had prepared her for having his complete attention.
He was in his late thirties, tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in a black overcoat over dark clothes. Snow had begun settling in his thick dark hair, but he seemed unaware of it.
Two security men stood several steps behind him.
Matteo did not shout.
He did not need to.
People became quiet when he entered a room.
Clara planted one hand against the courtyard and tried to stand.
Her shoe slipped again.
She nearly fell back down.
Bruno's growl deepened.
“I said step away.”
“I’m trying.”
Heat flooded Clara's cheeks.
Wonderful.
Six days.
She had lasted six days before humiliating herself in front of the most intimidating man she had ever met.
She became aware of everyone watching.
Gardeners.
Kitchen workers.
Security staff.
The estate groomer.
And Bianca Russo.
Bianca stood beneath another archway wearing an elegant white winter coat and heels that looked too expensive to touch snow. She had arrived that morning for breakfast with Matteo.
Clara had already embarrassed herself in front of Bianca once.
Yesterday, she had dropped a silver coffee tray.
Nothing had broken, but twelve porcelain cups had rattled loudly enough to silence the breakfast room.
Bianca had smiled.
“Charmingly hopeless.”
Matteo had said nothing.
Now Bianca folded her arms.
“She can't even stand up,” she said. “Perhaps Bruno can teach her some coordination.”
Nobody responded.
Matteo's eyes moved toward Bianca.
Her smile disappeared.
Clara finally managed to stand.
She should have backed away.
Instead, she looked at Bruno.
Really looked.
His lips were slightly pulled back, but something about his body bothered her.
His ears were pinned.
His breathing was rapid.
And his left hind leg trembled whenever he shifted his weight.
Nearby, the estate groomer held a leather lead.
The metal clasp clicked.
Bruno's eyes immediately snapped toward it.
Clara understood.
“He isn't angry because he's wet.”
Matteo looked at her.
“You reached that conclusion while lying on the ground?”
“I had a very good view.”
Someone behind her made a choking sound that might have been suppressed laughter.
Bianca stared at Clara as if she had lost her mind.
Matteo stepped closer.
“Bruno does not fear water.”
“Maybe not.”
Clara nodded toward the groomer's lead.
“But he fears what usually happens around it.”
The groomer frowned.
“What exactly are you suggesting?”
He lifted the lead.
The clasp clicked again.
Bruno's lips pulled farther back.
Clara reacted instantly.
“Put that down.”
The groomer stared at her.
“You have worked here six days.”
“The dog doesn't know how long I've worked here.”
Silence.
Then Matteo spoke.
“Put it down.”
The groomer's expression changed.
“Sir—”
“Now.”
The lead dropped.
The moment the metal touched the stone, Bruno's growl softened.
Matteo noticed.
So did Clara.
She slowly exhaled.
She had grown up around frightened animals. Her mother had volunteered at shelters, and Clara had spent half her childhood helping dogs that people described as “difficult.”
Usually difficult meant frightened.
Sometimes it meant hurt.
Clara watched Bruno's hind leg tremble again.
“He's in pain.”
Matteo's face became unreadable.
“My veterinarian examined him.”
“When?”
“Three months ago.”
“Before or after he bit the groomer?”
Matteo's gaze sharpened.
“Before.”
Clara nodded.
“That might explain it.”
Bianca stepped forward.
“Matteo, surely we aren't standing in the snow taking veterinary advice from a maid.”
Clara lowered her eyes.
Bianca was right about one thing.
Clara was a maid.
A temporary one, according to Grant Keller, the estate manager who had hired her.
“You'll last two weeks,” Grant had told her on her first morning.
She had needed the job too badly to argue.
Her mother's medical debts had left Clara with almost nothing. Her apartment lease had ended. Her savings had disappeared. Moretti's estate offered accommodation and wages high enough to rebuild her life.
She could not afford to lose this position.
Which meant she should stop talking.
Immediately.
Instead, Bruno shivered.
Clara looked at his soaked coat.
“He needs to be dried.”
Matteo's eyebrow moved slightly.
“That is not your concern.”
“I made him wet.”
“You did.”
“So let me fix it.”
Bianca laughed.
“The woman who cannot carry coffee wants to handle Bruno?”
Clara's cheeks burned.
But she kept looking at Matteo.
“The grooming room scares him.”
“How would you know?”
“I cleaned it yesterday. Stainless-steel tub. Slippery floor. Loud spray nozzle. Restraint hooks.”
Matteo remained silent.
“If his hip hurts,” Clara continued, “then being pulled into that room and restrained would make him panic.”
“The previous groomer was experienced.”
“Experience doesn't matter if you're solving the wrong problem.”
Matteo stared at her.
Clara swallowed.
Perhaps that sentence had ended her employment.
Then Matteo removed his gloves.
“What do you need?”
Everyone looked at him.
Clara blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“To dry Bruno.”
“Oh.”
She looked around.
“Towels. Warm room. No restraints. No lead.”
“And?”
“Patience.”
Matteo glanced toward the groomer.
“Prepare the room.”
“No,” Clara said quickly.
Matteo turned back.
She almost regretted speaking.
Almost.
“Not that room.”
“Where?”
“Laundry annex. Heated floor. Big windows. No metal tub.”
Matteo studied her for several seconds.
Then he looked toward his staff.
“Do it.”
Twenty minutes later, Clara sat on the warm tiled floor of the laundry annex.
Bruno stood five feet away.
No leash.
No collar.
No restraints.
Clara had placed several towels between them.
She did not approach.
She simply waited.
Matteo stood near the door.
Bianca had followed despite clearly believing the entire situation ridiculous.
“Are you planning to dry him before spring?” Bianca asked.
Clara ignored her.
Bruno sniffed.
One minute passed.
Then two.
Finally, Bruno stepped forward.
Clara didn't move.
He sniffed a towel.
Then her hand.
Slowly, Clara lifted the towel.
Bruno stiffened.
She stopped.
“Okay,” she whispered. “Your choice.”
She lowered it.
Bruno stared at her.
Then something remarkable happened.
He stepped closer.
Clara carefully placed the towel against his shoulder.
No growl.
She began drying him with slow movements.
Bruno's breathing gradually softened.
Matteo watched everything.
When Clara reached Bruno's back leg, the dog flinched.
She immediately stopped.
“There.”
Matteo moved closer.
“What?”
“His hip.”
Clara gently ran two fingers near the joint without pressing it.
Bruno's muscles tightened.
“He needs another examination.”
Matteo looked at Bruno.
Then at Clara.
“Arrange for Dr. Leone,” he told one of his men.
Bianca sighed.
“Are we seriously changing your entire morning because a maid thinks your dog has arthritis?”
Clara looked down.
Matteo did not.
“Yes.”
Bianca's face tightened.
An hour later, the veterinarian arrived.
The examination took twenty minutes.
Dr. Leone eventually stood.
“Inflammation around the left hip. Possibly an old injury aggravated by cold weather.”
Matteo's jaw tightened.
“How was this missed?”
“It may not have been obvious three months ago.”
Dr. Leone glanced toward Clara.
“She noticed subtle weight shifting. Good observation.”
Clara smiled awkwardly.
Bianca did not.
Medication was prescribed. A different grooming routine was recommended.
By noon, Bruno was asleep beside a fireplace.
His enormous head rested on Clara's shoe.
She was trapped.
She didn't mind.
Matteo entered the room quietly.
Clara started to stand.
Bruno opened one eye.
“Stay.”
She wasn't sure whether Matteo meant her or the dog.
Apparently both remained where they were.
Matteo looked at Bruno.
“He doesn't sleep beside strangers.”
“I think he's tired.”
“He doesn't trust strangers either.”
Clara stroked Bruno's ear.
“Maybe nobody told him I'm a stranger.”
Something almost resembling amusement appeared in Matteo's eyes.
Then vanished.
He turned toward the doorway.
“Grant.”
The estate manager appeared.
“Yes, sir?”
“Move Miss Hayes's belongings.”
Clara's hand stopped.
“What?”
Grant looked equally confused.
“Where?”
“The east staff residence.”
Clara's stomach dropped.
The east residence housed senior employees.
“I don't understand.”
Matteo looked directly at her.
“You're being reassigned.”
Her heart sank.
Of course.
She had interfered with his dog, contradicted his groomer, disrupted the household, and embarrassed herself publicly.
She had known this job would not last.
“Mr. Moretti, please. I need this position. I know I'm clumsy, but—”
“You misunderstand.”
Matteo's gaze shifted toward Bruno.
“You're no longer assigned to general housekeeping.”
Clara blinked.
“What am I assigned to?”
“Bruno.”
Bianca's expression hardened.
Clara looked at the sleeping giant on her foot.
“You're giving me a job taking care of your dog?”
“Among other things.”
“What other things?”
Matteo did not answer immediately.
He walked toward the door.
Then stopped.
Without turning around, he said something that made Clara's pulse jump.
“You were right about one thing, Miss Hayes.”
“What?”
“Bruno was frightened.”
He glanced back.
“And now I want to know why the person responsible for frightening him still works inside my house.”
Clara froze.
Matteo's expression had become cold.
“Until I find out,” he said, “you and Bruno stay where I can protect both of you.”
That evening, Clara moved into the east residence.
She believed the strangest part of her day was over.
She was wrong.
At 11:43 p.m., Bruno began scratching at her bedroom door.
Clara opened it.
The dog immediately walked down the hallway.
“Bruno?”
He continued.
She followed.
He led her downstairs, through a dark corridor, and stopped outside a locked storage room.
Then he began growling.
Not at Clara.
At the door.
Clara reached for the handle.
It was unlocked.
Inside, she found an old leather lead.
A metal grooming restraint.
And beneath them—
a photograph.
Clara picked it up.
The picture showed Bruno as a puppy.
Beside him stood Matteo.
And beside Matteo was a smiling woman Clara had never seen.
On the back, someone had written five words:
He already lost her once.
Then Bruno suddenly turned toward the hallway.
Someone was standing in the darkness behind Clara.
May you like
And whoever it was had been watching her.
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