1

“Zaverio,” his name echoed in my head, and happiness surged through my veins as heat spread up my neck, setting my cheeks on fire. 

It had been years since I saw him, and I wondered what he would look like, but I didn’t care. I had loved him and would love him forever. 

News had gotten out that he was returning to town. I had heard the other house helps gossip about it, but I hadn’t dared to hope until I heard Mrs. Riccardo say so herself, ordering them to decorate the house and make the mansion beautiful. 

I scrubbed the plate subconsciously, my hands working by themselves out of years of experience and practice. 

Lady Riccardo walked in, stern as ever she scowled.

"Better hurry, Alma," Mrs. Riccardo's voice cracked like a whip, sending a shiver down my spine. "We don't have much time. My son will be home any moment from now. Do your job." 

I nodded, my lips sealed, knowing better than to utter a word. Mrs. Riccardo's grip on the household had tightened like a noose since Don Riccardo's passing, and I had lost the freedom I once knew. I was now a mere servant. 

From the corners of my eyes, I watched as she poured herself a glass of wine, her eyes fixed on the window, her expression a mask of elegance–behind that mask, I knew a mother's fear and worry was there.

She turned to me, and I averted my gaze to the plates I was scrubbing as she spoke, her voice dripping with warning, “When you are done, I'll want all of you to welcome my son. Be professional, no ogling." 

She turned her attention to me, her eyes narrowed, as if daring me to disobey. I felt a flutter in my chest, my heart racing with anticipation. 

How could I not stare at the man who had once captured my heart? Zaverio, with his chiseled features and piercing eyes, had left a mark on my soul right from when we were teenagers. 

A smile graced my lips at the memories of how Zaverio and I used to steal kisses around the house back then. My stomach knotted when I remembered how he used to whisper sweet nothings into my ears and profess his undying love to me. 

“I promise, I'll come back for you.” His voice echoed in my head, and my mind conjured images of the last night he snuck me into his room to make sweet love to me for the last time before going to Italy. 

“Understood?!” Mrs. Riccardo snapped, clapping her hands. 

I jerked as the sound of her voice and palms smacking against each other echoed in the kitchen, snapping me out of my self-induced trance. 

“Yes, ma'am,” we chorused.

With that, she strode out of the kitchen, while I rinsed out the plates. 

A car honked outside and my heart beat faster. I looked out the window, watching as a black bulletproof sedan pulled up in front of the house, and heavily armed guys dressed in black opened the door. 

My heart jumped to my throat, and my breath caught as I stared in anticipation. The moment his Gucci shoes touched the ground, my heart fluttered back to my chest, mimicking the burst of butterflies in my stomach. 

“My love is finally back!” I exclaimed in my head, heart leaping for joy. 

Not waiting to see the rest of his body and face, I pulled my head back and rinsed the last of the plate. I smoothed my dress, my hands trembling slightly. 

“I hope my hair is presentable,” I thought in my head as I palmed my messy bun, but then I halted mid-action when a thought crossed my mind. A grin spread across my lips, and I let my hands fall beside my body. 

Zaverio had always said he loved me for who I was, not for my appearance. 

Love! 

Such a strong word, so strong that it hadn’t left my system for years and I wasn’t sure I was going to love anyone other than Zaverio Enzo Riccardo. 

Quickly, I ran to the giant main room along with other housemaids to welcome him and as the front door flew open, I suddenly forgot how to breathe. 

Zaverio was cute before but now he is handsome, like a man. His boyish face was long gone instead replaced by a familiar yet hardened roguish look. 

“My boy!” Mrs. Riccardo beamed, taking hurried steps to him and falling into his embrace. 

My heart twitched. I wished it was me soaking up in his embrace. 

His dark hair fell to his temples and the nape of his neck and on his jaw, I could make out a day’s growth of beard. He was pleasant to look at, and I couldn't stop staring at him. 

His biceps, I noticed, were bulging and he towered over us all. He was five-foot last time I saw him but now he looked a whopping six foot eight. 

My frown faltered when I noticed something wrong, those blue eyes of his had changed like he had seen the rough side of life.

“You've grown so tall and so mature. I missed you so much!” Mrs. Riccardo pinched his cheeks, pulling away from the hug. 

Zaverio smiled and as if he sensed me watching, he raised his head and our eyes met. My heart beat for joy but then his smile faltered. His lips were primed, and he averted his gaze elsewhere like I was nothing. 

"Hector," he said to the man beside him. "It's fine now. I am good, you can go." 

The bald man, who I had just learned his name to be Hector nodded and bowed before leaving. 

“Come, get his bags,” Mrs. Riccardo ordered with severity in her tone as she glared at me. 

Quickly, I rushed to his side, retrieving the briefcase from him. Our fingers brushed and shivers ran down my spine as our hands remained in that position. 

“Welcome back, sir,” I greeted, waiting to see that familiar glint in his eyes, but there was none. 

His eyes were cold, and his jaw taut as he raked my body with his eyes. 

With a deep and husky voice, he asked, "You are?" 

I felt hot tears prick my eyes and my voice caught in my throat. Did he already forget me? 

"Alma Sinatra," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. 

Something flickered in those hardened blue eyes and he pulled his hand backwards. 

"Oh," he said nonchalantly, averting his gaze to my face. "I don't remember you.”

My throat ran dry. 

“You, take my briefcase from her,” he instructed one of his boys. 

He walked away, leaving me stunned. This was not the meeting I had expected, considering what we were when we were teens. I had even given him the most cherished part of me, my womanhood.

I rushed to my room, plopping down on my bed with tears streaming down my cheeks. 

Something must be wrong somewhere, he couldn’t have completely changed. 

Didn’t he love me anymore? Or maybe he was tired, it must have been a long journey from Italy, I thought and wiped my tears. I would sneak to his room as I did before and everything would go back to how it used to be.

****

I had just stepped out of the bathroom when a soft knock on the other side of my room door earned my attention. Before I could grant whoever it was permission, the handle twisted and the door opened with a creak. 

Hastily, Zaverio slid into my room and closed the door. 

My heart skipped a beat, and I turned crimson because I only had a towel fastened around my chest. 

“What are you doing here?” I inquired, furrowing my forehead. 

He pressed his finger against his lips. “Shhh.”

“Why?” I inquired, frowning deeper. 

“They will hear us,” he whispered, glancing back at the door. 

“You should leave,” I ordered, walking past him. 

All the air left my lungs when he clasped my arm with his calloused fingers. He pulled me back and shoved me in a harsh, yet gentle manner against the wall.  

He pressed his palm against my lips, and stared deep into my eyes. My chest rose and fell with a thumping heart. 

“Do you realize I am your boss?” He whispered with lava burning in his eyes. “How dare you walk out on me?”