CLAIMED BY THE MAFIA KINGS 1st of the Mafia Queen Series

Lyra's POV

"Lyra Carson?"

I hadn't even knocked. The front door of the Weston Mansion swung open the moment I reached the first step, revealing the man himself: Leo Weston. He didn't just look intimidating; he was intimidating. Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a black suit sharp enough to cut glass, and dark eyes fixed on me like a predator sizing up prey. They were piercing, assessing, as if I'd already failed some silent, invisible test.

So this was him. The man people whispered about in bars and quiet corners. Rumors painted him as ruthless, powerful, and dangerous. The kind of man who controlled things most people couldn't even comprehend. Some said his fortune wasn't exactly clean, though no one could prove it.

but that wasn't any of my business. I wasn't here to dig into his secrets. I was here for the job, Because when your bank account was circling the drain, and you were out of options, survival had a way of drowning out common sense.

"That's me," I managed, my voice sharper than I felt. Keep it together, Lyra.

"Come in." His voice was smooth and commanding, the kind that didn't need to ask twice. He turned and disappeared into the mansion, his steps long and deliberate, leaving me no room to hesitate.

This was a mistake.

I should've turned around the moment I saw the place: a looming, gothic beast of a house that screamed don't go in. But the agency email had been clear: generously paid, live-in required, no questions asked. And with bills piling up and no backup plan, I'd convinced myself this was a good idea. That I could handle anything.

Now, standing in Leo Weston's shadow, the weight of that risk hit me like a freight train.

The foyer swallowed me whole. Cold, impersonal. Marble floors stretched beneath my feet, and the dark wood paneling seemed to drink in all the light. The space felt more like a mausoleum than a home. No family photos. No kids' toys. Not even a stray jacket draped over a chair. My breath fogged faintly in the chill, and the scent of something expensive: cedarwood and leather, filled the air.

"I didn't expect you to be the one interviewing me," I said, quickening my steps to keep up with his long steps. "I thought maybe... a guardian or-"

"Mira's family is me," he interrupted without looking back, his voice sharp enough to slice through my words. "I handle everything concerning her. Personally."

Great. No pressure.

We moved deeper into the house, the heels of his shoes clicking ominously against the floor. The hallway was endless, the kind that seemed to stretch and darken as you walked. My senses prickled; every instinct I had screamed this wasn't just any job. This wasn't just any man.

"She's been through a lot," Leo said, his tone softening ever so slightly. "She doesn't speak much, but she listens. I expect you to be patient with her."

"No problem," I replied, though