Chapter 4 – Rae #2
Franky’s face softened. “While I agree with you, it’s not like the poor girl has other choices. She’s not like you or me, Rae.”
“Huh, didn’t notice,” I said dryly.
“I’m serious. She’s Signora Grimadli’s ward and will marry a desirable match. Anything else is…unthinkable.” Franky thumped my shoulder, much the same way I had to the princess minutes ago. “Go easy on her. It’s hard to live in a world where personal choice is nonexistent.”
He spoke like she wasn’t allowed to do anything other than picking out clothes. There was a big old world out there, and she just let her destiny be manipulated.
It made me want to scream.
“I’m glad she has you, Rae,” Franky threw over his shoulder. “You’re a breath of fresh air in this mausoleum.”
Well, now I felt like the world’s biggest bitch.
Because I could see his point. If Arabella had someone wild and reckless like me around, maybe she wouldn’t have grown up with such limited choices.
I can’t fix everyone. The vicious reminder came from the place of self-preservation.
That was exactly what I wanted to do. Give the girl some spunk and encourage her to raise cane!
But….
She is not your problem.
My inner critic was right. My biggest problem right now was making myself presentable in less than ten minutes and joining the other servants out front to receive the long-lost grandson.
It took five minutes to change and tame back the unruly strands of hair that fought to escape the tight knot on the top of my head.
If the white maid’s cap was a bit tilted, I prayed the housekeeper wouldn’t notice.
Tugging on my white gloves to hide my tattoos, I dashed out the back door and ran like mad around the paths to the front. It was the most direct path, because sprinting through the house was out of the question.
Pulling up short, I tidied my apron tighter and groaned at the dust on my shiny Mary Janes. It would have to do. I took my place between Cathy and Maddie just as the car rolled up the long drive.
“No, you go there,” Maddie snapped.
Cathy pursed her lips but didn’t comment as I changed places to be at the end of the line. The place of least importance.
We looked like something out of a period drama. 1800s English nobility would have been proud.
The sports car roared, a burst of exhaust calling out in greeting.
My gaze snagged on the sleek lines of the beast. While I preferred American Muscle, I had to keep my mouth shut to avoid drooling over the outrageously expensive, custom European model.
My fingers itched to go under the trunk and tinker with the powerhouse pushing the car.
Maybe once the groundskeeper-slash-chauffer tucked it away, I could sneak out and take a peek.
AJ wouldn’t mind. While he worked outside, we’d run into each other enough to strike up a friendly accord.
Car enthusiasts were easy to talk to. And AJ had a nice smile, so some idiot part of me offered to let him ride in my baby on Monday.
I didn’t like him enough to let him drive her, of course.
But some kissing could convince you, my inner voice cackled.
He would have to be a damn good kisser, though. It was only the extended dry spell that made me consider letting him drive Cherry Pie.
As a rule, boys didn’t drive my Camaro.
But it would be fun to make him work for it.
Yeah, boys and cars, two things I was crazy over. Both unpredictable and liable to break your heart. At least when a car had issues, there was a logical way to fix them.
Thinking about kissing made me wonder if the grandson would recognize me. It was a selfish part.
A stupid part.
Dominico had to be what, forty? No…I’d been twelve and he was fifteen. So about thirty-three. Also, men didn’t remember stupid things like first kisses. And the skill of his mouth told me back then that I wasn’t the first girl he’d stolen a smooch from.
No, this was just another rich Grimaldi to avoid while doing my job.
The whole clan was due to arrive in the next hour.
The children, their spouses and their children, along with several cousins, ancient aunts, and plenty of grumpy uncles.
I already had the pleasure of serving them cocktails last Sunday before the family dinner.
And while this Friday was a special occasion, they’d be back around noon for another Sunday family dinner in two days.
While I would be here, ready to serve.
At least this wasn’t the sum existence of my life. I wasn’t stuck like Arabella. I shot the young woman—the child—a look as she descended the front steps, trailing after Mr. and Mrs. Grimaldi. The car door cracked, but her gaze was plastered to the ground. Probably to avoid tripping.
Or maybe to put off the initial contact with the grandson for a moment more? I stared at her, wondering, as the grandparents embraced the driver. Could I help her? It wasn’t the propriety that made me hesitate. It was the fact that she wasn’t my damn problem.
There was a soft burst of greeting, but I was too busy looking at the Aston Martin. It had to be a limited-run model, because I didn’t recognize it. My mistake was thinking that the engine had been in the back, but now I was pretty sure it was under the hood.
Fascinating….
I couldn’t wait until later when I could take a peek.
“And you remember our darling, Arabella,” Mr. Grimaldi boomed.
A hum rumbled over the circular drive. It was that rich bass note that had me looking.
And it was the man in the custom suit that had me stifling a squeak and wishing the ground would open to swallow me whole. I doubted I was ever going to earn my way to heaven, but until this moment, I wasn’t ready to journey to hell.
Sign me up now, because the man standing beside his grandfather was none other than the devilishly handsome stranger from The Galway Arms.
Dominico Grimaldi—Nic.
Nico, my brain supplied helpfully.
How in the blazes hadn’t I recognized him? It should have been obvious!
I cast one more glance over his hard jaw and terribly beautiful face. No, nope! There was nothing even remotely similar to the boy who I spent a few short weeks chasing around that summer.
As they stepped toward the house, I dropped my gaze to the ground, begging hell to split the earth and take me. It didn’t. I curtseyed as they passed, my heart hammering in my throat. If he saw me, he would know—
Know that I was the one who stole his expensive ass watch.
This family wasn’t the kind to call the cops.
They would take care of the matter themselves.
Stupid, stupid me! When the hell was I going to learn?
In my defense, I didn’t expect the enigma from the pub to show up here!
I shouldn’t have taken the fancy Italian watch, which I’d learned was enough to set up my future fund in a nice way.
But I couldn’t resist. Especially when he initiated the contact by grabbing me!
My skin responded by burning on the spot where he’d touched me last weekend.
I brushed my hand over the spot, begging the sizzle to disappear.
I did not need those conflicting feelings to cloud my mind right now.
Dominico might not have noticed me when he walked into the house, but as we followed at a respectful distance, it became all too clear that I would have to spend the rest of the night dodging him.
How in tarnation was I going to manage that? I’m dead meat.