Chapter 10 - The Song That Never EndedThree months later.
The Vale mansion felt entirely different.
The heavy velvet drapes in the west wing had been pulled back, allowing golden afternoon sunlight to flood across the hardwood floors and the grand piano. Fresh flowers sat on every table. And, most importantly of all, music played softly through the speakers—not classical silence, not mournful echoes, but bright, living melodies that filled the halls with warmth and life.
I stood in the formal parlor, wearing my burgundy uniform, adjusting a vase of freshly cut tulips on the antique console.
My life had changed in ways I never could have imagined. I was no longer just the maid who sang into her feather duster. Well, technically I still sang into my feather duster when I thought nobody was looking—though I had recently discovered that Dominic rarely knocked when he entered a room.
Heavy footsteps echoed down the polished hallway.
A pair of strong arms wrapped around my waist from behind, pulling me flush against a warm, broad chest. A familiar chin rested gently on my shoulder, and the scent of cedar and expensive cologne filled my senses.
“You’re missing the rehearsal,” Dominic murmured, his voice rich and low against my ear.
“I’m not missing anything,” I smiled, leaning back into his embrace and turning around in his arms. He was wearing a soft black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms—no tie, no iron-clad armor, just the man he truly was underneath.
“Marcus is downstairs panicking because the catering truck is ten minutes late,” Dominic noted, a lazy smile playing on his lips.
“Marcus panics if a cloud looks slightly threatening,” I laughed, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Are you ready for tonight?”
Dominic looked down at me, his dark eyes shining with a depth of affection that still made my heart skip a beat. Tonight was the charity gala in honor of the Sofia Vale Memorial Music Foundation for underprivileged youth—a project Dominic had funded and built from the ground up in the west wing of the estate.
“I’m ready,” Dominic said softly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, vintage Bluetooth speaker, setting it gently on the antique table. “In fact... I brought a request.”
I raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile spreading across my face. “Oh really? And what song does the most feared mafia boss in Westchester County want to hear?”
Dominic leaned down, his lips brushing softly against mine before he whispered:
May you like
“Whatever you want to sing, Rachel. As long as you never stop.”
I smiled, pressing my forehead against his, as the music drifted softly through the sunlit halls, filling the house with a song that would never end.
