Chapter 6 - The Private Steward
Stepping into Leo Rossi’s private quarters on the third floor felt like entering an entirely different world.
While the rest of the estate was designed to intimidate visitors with grand marble columns, towering ceilings, and opulent European antiques, Leo’s personal suite was minimalist, sleek, and surprisingly austere. Deep charcoal walls, floor-to-ceiling glass looking out over the misty waters of Lake Michigan, and custom dark-wood furniture dominated the space.
Tessa stood in the center of his massive master bedroom, holding her brass tray containing a fresh pot of dark, single-origin coffee, a small pitcher of cream, and a single glass of iced water.
The suite was silent. The massive king-sized bed was made with mathematical precision, the crisp black sheets unwrinkled.
She set the tray down on the low marble table beside the leather sofa and began her routine. She checked the temperature on the digital thermostat, adjusted the heavy velvet blackout curtains to let in the pale morning sun, and carefully dusted the glass surfaces.
She was wiping down the mahogany desk near the window when the bathroom door opened.
Tessa froze.
Leo stepped out into the room, steam billowing softly behind him. He wore only a black silk robe tied loosely at his waist, exposing his broad, muscular chest covered in dark hair and crisscrossed with dark, jagged silver scars—stark reminders of a violence she could barely comprehend. His dark hair was wet, slicked back from his sharp forehead, water droplets glistening on his collarbone.
Tessa turned her eyes away instantly, her face burning with a sudden, intense heat. "I'm—I'm sorry, Mr. Rossi! Maria told me you were already downstairs in the gym!"
Leo didn't rush to cover himself. He walked casually toward the marble table, pulled out a cigarette from a silver case, and lit it with a heavy gold Dupont lighter.
"I changed my routine," Leo said smoothly, exhaling a thin stream of gray smoke toward the ceiling. He looked at the tray she had brought. "Is that dark roast?"
"Yes, sir," Tessa said, keeping her eyes fixed firmly on the polished floorboards near his feet. "No sugar, just as you prefer."
Leo poured himself a cup, the rich aroma of fresh coffee filling the cool room. He took a slow sip, approving with a quiet hum.
"You don't need to look at the floor, Tessa," Leo murmured, stepping closer to her until she could feel the faint, warm heat radiating from his shower-damp skin, mixed with the scent of sandalwood soap and tobacco. "You work in my private rooms now. You will see things far more graphic than a man in a robe."
Tessa slowly raised her head, forcing herself to meet his dark, piercing gaze. "Yes, Mr. Rossi."
"How is your brother?" he asked, taking another drag of his cigarette.
"The surgery went exceptionally well," Tessa replied sincerely. "The doctor said he will regain ninety percent mobility in his fingers after physical therapy. I... I can never repay you for what you did."
"You don't need to repay me," Leo said flatly. He walked over to his massive walk-in closet, sliding open the frosted glass doors to reveal dozens of identical, impeccably tailored dark suits. "Just ensure my coffee is hot at 7:30 every morning and that no one enters this wing without my explicit permission."
"Of course, sir," Tessa said, picking up her cleaning cloth.
As she turned to leave the room, Leo called out softly without turning around from his suits.
"Tessa."
She stopped near the door. "Yes?"
"Pick out a suit for me today," Leo ordered casually. "Something appropriate for a funeral."
Tessa felt a small chill ripple through her frame, but she walked over to the closet without hesitation. She scanned the long row of luxury suits, her fingers brushing against fine Italian wool and silk. She selected a charcoal-gray three-piece suit paired with a crisp white shirt and a dark navy silk tie.
She laid the clothes out neatly on the leather bench at the foot of his bed.
Leo stepped out of the closet, examining her choices with a critical eye. A subtle, approving nod showed on his face.
May you like
"Good taste," he murmured softly.
As Tessa walked out of his suite and closed the heavy door, her heart was racing violently against her ribs. She was stepping deeper and deeper into the inner circle of a dangerous man, and to her absolute terror, she realized she was no longer entirely afraid of him.
