Who the fúkk picked something like this?

The disorderly chirping of birds awakened Arabella from her slumber. She gently massaged her temple and exhaled deeply as she slowly sat up on the chilly tiled floor. With furrowed brows, she recollected the reason for finding herself sleeping on the floor. Memories from the previous night flooded her mind as she shook her head.

It had been because of Sandro. After leaving her in a state of agitation, he returned to taunt her once again, asserting ownership over her and her possessions. He had deemed her absurd for outrightly rejecting his offer, and as a result, he coerced her into retracting her words by nearly choking her to the brink of death.

Arabella believed his stopping was prompted only when he saw her gasping for air. However, she had doubts that it was driven by pity, as he seemed to relish every moment of his actions. In fact, she was convinced that he hesitated solely to revel in watching her wheeze and grovel before him. The humiliation was deep, yet her frail body left her powerless to resist.

A knock resounded at the door, jolting her out of her thoughts. Arabella stood up abruptly, immediately regretting the hasty movement as her head spun.

She stumbled towards the vanity, clutching it for support while she exhaled. After regaining her balance, she straightened up. Her forehead creased as the knocking persisted. While she remained uncertain about the visitor's identity, she risked a guess that it was none other than the formidable Alessandro De Luca himself. He might have come to criticize her and force her into pleading for her life—the life she believed was on the ridge of being extinguished.

With measured steps, she approached the door, her breathing uneven. She wiped her clammy palms on her denim shorts and swallowed the lump lodged in her throat. What actions would he unleash upon entering the room, she pondered as her quivering hand closed around the doorknob. Despite her efforts not to succumb to his presence's threat, she found herself consistently failing.

Her teeth sank on her lower lip as she turned the lock before opening the door. Stepping two paces backward, she braced herself for the expected taunt. However, upon opening her eyes a few seconds later, she was met not by the sea-green eyes she had anticipated but by deep-brown ones.

Standing before her wasn't Sandro but rather a petite lady with ebony skin. Her vividly dyed red hair formed a cascade of curls, and she appeared to be roughly Arabella's age.

"Good morning, Arabella," her hazel eyes gleamed, and her plump lips curved into a broad smile. With a wrinkle of her long nose, she ventured further into the room.

Startled, Arabella arched her brows as she studied the newcomer. She pondered if she had encountered this woman somewhere before, but her mind drew a blank when searching for any resemblance to someone familiar.

"Don't be surprised," the redhead chimed, her smile unwavering. "The boss informed me about you. I'm your maid, Janice."

"The boss?" Arabella inquired. Before even receiving a response, she knew precisely who was being referred to.

"Signore Alessandro De Luca," Janice confirmed.

Suppressing a shudder, Arabella concentrated on Janice's presence and words, deliberately diverting her thoughts from him.

"So, uh...?" Janice playfully nudged Arabella, causing her to start.

"Oh, sorry," Janice quickly apologized. "I didn't realize your mind was preoccupied."

Arabella managed a smile. "It's alright, Janice. I don't mean to be impolite. It's nice to meet you, but I truly don't believe I require a maid."

"Please," Janice chuckled, waving her hands dismissively. "You can't go against his wishes."

"I can, and I—" Arabella began, her resolve faltering.

"Now, come on," Janice interjected, her tone insistent. "He wishes to see you soon, and I need to prepare you before the appointed time. I'd rather not find myself in trouble."

Janice guided Arabella out of the room before she could offer further resistance.

"Prepare for what?" Arabella questioned.

"Why not let me perform my duties without interruptions from you?" Janice said. "You'll find out once I'm finished. If I were to assume, maybe he intends to share a breakfast of sorts with you."

Arabella sighed, closing her eyes. She nibbled on her lower lip and clenched her fists. Would he be following through with his declarations from the day before? She silently protested within herself. The prospect of being enslaved in such a manner was her worst nightmare.

She craved for his summons to revolve solely around breakfast and not the distressing notions that plagued her thoughts.

After a while, Janice's gaze remained on Arabella's reflection in the mirror.

"You look exquisite, Arabella, just like your name suggests—absolutely gorgeous," she complimented, delicately putting the finishing touches on Arabella's face.

"I doubt that," Arabella grimaced.

Even with her awareness of her stunning reflection, Arabella knew her current look was primarily a result of Janice's help. The real reason for Alessandro's asking her to appear before him remained a mystery to her, but the attire she found herself in—or rather, had been coerced into—didn't sit well with her.

The sequined dress, with its short sleeves and mid-thigh length, clung to her body like a second skin. She marveled at how perfectly it fit her petite frame, pondering how they had managed to get her size right. She scowled at her chest, instinctively attempting to cover the pronounced cleavage that was on display, yet her efforts proved futile. She pondered whether it was the push-up bra she had been forced into or the dress's plunging neckline itself that was exposing too much.

As if these concerns weren't enough, the dress also featured an open back, leaving little to the imagination.

Exhaling sharply, she turned her attention to Janice. "Could I maybe wear something else? This feels overly showy. And seriously, who on earth would choose such a—such an outrageous outfit?!"