Chapter 8 – Rae
“He’s a vicious brute, signore!” A voice snarled as an echo to the front door being slammed open.
I jolted from the lounge chair in the front parlor. After being assigned to wait up in case the master of the house needed anything, I decided to rest my feet. Which turned into a much-needed nap.
Now I was stuck where I shouldn’t be. If they bypassed the parlor in favor of the lounge, I could scoot away. If they came in here—
I’m so screwed.
More footsteps thumped into the foyer before the door slammed shut.
“Go, clean yourself up, Tobias,” Mr. Grimaldi ordered. “We’re going to have a little chat about your behavior.”
“I wasn’t cheating, Don Grimaldi! I told you, your grandson was wrong.” There was a plea behind those words.
“And I said, I don’t care about the money,” the big boss snarled. “I care how the thing looks.”
The shuffle of feet faded as they went deeper into the house.
I took a long, steadying breath.
The smart thing to do would be go to bed. Tell the housekeeper that I wasn’t needed. But if she found out I hadn’t even offered a beverage? That little white lie might haunt me.
I gritted my teeth and hurried after the men. My heels clicked loudly on the floor, and I bumped and thumped into objects to announce my presence.
The door to Mr. Grimaldi’s office was open. I knocked on the wood, but a few of the men saw me. The conversation died immediately.
“I was told to wait up,” I explained, ignoring the goons in fancy suits and looked only at my employer. “Can I bring anything from the kitchen?”
“Look at those legs?” someone hissed.
His friend chuckled.
My molars threatened to crack.
“No, thank you.” Mr. Grimaldi waved me off. “We’ll just have something from the bar cart. You can go to bed.”
I turned, not needing to hear anything else—
And stifled a shocked squeak as another goon trudged from the powder room.
His face was a mess.
The kind that only a plastic surgeon on a TV show could fix. I tried not to stare, but the damage made my blood run cold. The cut across his forehead looked deep where the bandage didn’t quite cover it. One eye was swollen shut, and his lip was three times the normal size.
The goon bared his lip at me, and I ducked away.
But not before hearing, “You need to bring your pitbull to heel, signore.”
“Yes, your grandson can’t attack us, period,” another agreed as the door shut on the men.
Dominico did that.
I slipped into a service entrance and sagged against the cool panel of the door. What in the actual hell had happened tonight? And was the grandson okay?
I gulped. “You don’t care. Just go to bed.”
Rubbing my aggressively beating heart, I took off down the passage. The image of that bloody face replayed in my mind. These men were ruthless. Unforgiving. I probably wasn’t safe here.
You weren’t much better in Cobbsville.
A shudder ran through me. Between the trailer park I’d called home, the meth heads who’d graduated with me, and the lack of gainful employment, there was no future in that one-horse town.
I would have ended up in danger if I’d stayed.
Sure, this place might be full of wolves, but at least there was a chance for a better life.
Hand on the door to the kitchen, I sighed. Bed never sounded so good. Wearily, I dragged myself through the door. The kitchen was too quiet. Under the hum of the appliances, there was a low menace that I felt before it registered that I wasn’t alone.
“Well, hello there,” a smarmy voice greeted me.
I pulled up short, cursing myself for looking at my shoes instead of paying attention to my surroundings. None of the lights were on in here. But from the glow in the window, I could just make out the criminal’s body. He was across the island.
For now.
I smiled, though he couldn’t see. “Can I help you, sir?”
“I came for some ice, but….” His voice trailed off as he set an object on the marble counter that I could only assume was a folded towel.
“Ice is in the freezer.” I tiptoed to the side.
He mirrored my movements. “Maybe you can show me?”
Icy bolts of panic rapid-fired through my veins. I knew better than to stick around. But he was closer to the door where he stood. My pulse roared in my ears, and I tried to focus through the gloom to catch any sudden shift from the scum.
“I’m actually required to bring something to Mr. Grimaldi,” I lied. Maybe if he thought I was expected elsewhere, he wouldn’t try anything.
“The boss can wait.”
I wanted to laugh. Clearly, he didn’t know the first thing about service work.
“You wouldn’t want to be unhelpful to a guest,” he pushed, creeping around the island.
I scrambled back, but that only made him come at me faster. I could tell he wasn’t particularly athletic. It didn’t stop him from being fast. He was on me in second. My feet slipped against the polished tile as I tried to escape.
With a pleased groan, he locked a meaty arm around my middle. One damp hand cupped my face, turning it to the light.
His breath hit me. It was stale. Booze and something sour.
“The don has the prettiest staff,” he murmured.
The stench fanned over my skin. He’d been drinking. Not enough to make him sloppy, just the right amount to make this worth the risk.
Panic flared through my chest. It threatened to suffocate me. I froze.
For the briefest of seconds, my body betrayed me.
Fight back!
I struggled to regain control of my body. I sucked in a ragged breath through my clenched teeth.
“Put me down!” I hissed, giving his shin a kick.
I knew better than to call for help. His word against mine, and the boss would think I invited the attention. I knew how men like this operated.
“Be a good girl and let me have a taste,” he rasped, lips brushing against my skin. “Don’t make me take it.”
I didn’t hesitate. I reared back, knowing what came next would hurt, but I was a fighter, dammit! My pain would be ten times as deep if I didn’t get away. Twisting an inch, I moved.
And slammed my skull straight into his fat face.
He howled.
I was ready to run the moment his grip loosened.
It never did.
Slamming me against the island, he pinched my face tightly between his fingers. That grip was a vise. The insides of my cheeks threatened to be cut against my teeth.
“You just made this worse for yourself,” he snarled. “I’ll make you regret it. Slowly.”
His body pressed against mine. He was soft and pudgy in every place but one. A wash of fear spread through me. It left me paralyzed.
I couldn’t even breathe.
Which gave the gross fucker the opening to reach his hand down my thigh, tugging at the skirt of the uniform. When those sausage fingers brushed against my tights, I jolted.
He laughed.
The nob rattled, and the back door creaked open. Cool night air slipped in with the sharp, yellow glow of the floodlight.
“Capello,” a low, rough voice commanded. “Step away from the maid.”
Pressed against the counter, I couldn’t turn to look. But I knew that voice.
I struggled and pushed, but the bastard held me in place.
“We’re having a little chat about hospitality,” the demonic sonofabitch said pleasantly. “Nothing to concern yourself with, principe.”
Footsteps echoed off the floor.
I latched onto the sound like a lifeline.
They took their sweet time going around the island. For a desperate second, I was scared the Grimaldi heir was leaving me to my fate.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Capello,” Dominico responded, voice steady and certain. It might be easily confused with boredom, but I caught the undercurrent simmering behind his words. “You touched something that isn’t yours.”
I kicked out and managed to land a blow to my captor’s knee. He groaned, and there was a small release in the tension that held me in place. I seized the opening, thrashing wildly.
Suddenly, the pressure was gone.
Rearing back, I scooted away. Unfortunately, in the rush of panic, my balance was shit. My arms windmilled, but I ended up half falling against the opposite counter.
It didn’t matter.
Dominico had the goon pinned against the island—exactly the same way I’d just been pinned.
“Please, Signore, I didn’t mean anything by it! She was helping me get some ice!” the goon pleaded.
“This is my house, which means those who live and work here are under my protection,” Dominico snarled.
He didn’t look in my direction, and I folded deeper into the shadows of the kitchen, using the corner of the counter to hide my face.
The men, however, were bathed in a contrast of bright light and deep darkness. From the open back door, the floodlight cut a harsh beam that made the scene at the kitchen island garish.
Dominico grabbed the chubby man’s arm, forcing it with only one hand to splay on the counter. “Quit fighting or you’ll make this worse.”
“Signore, signore!” the goon wailed.
Dominico shifted his attention to me. “Grab me the meat cleaver, ragazza.”
I’d never been a servant before. But I was pretty sure housekeepers at the local Motel 6 never participated in such brutal demonstrations with guests.
Still, that fucker had made me freeze. The icy tendrils of fear had made me numb.
Even though it had only been a second, I hated that he made me feel weak.
Pushing to my feet, I reached for the knife block near the stove.
“Dominico, stop! Are you insane?” the goon reasoned. “She’s a maid. She’ll snitch!”
Drawing my shoulders back, I marched forward, bringing my prize.
“I think she’s enjoying this,” Dominico mused, a slight madness tinging the words. “After all, if I hadn’t have come through the back for a beer, you might have raped her.”
“No! Nnnoo, signore! That’s not true!”
Liar.
Men like him were all the same.
“The bitch wanted it!” the goon protested.
I extended the handle.
Dominico’s gaze shifted to mine, but since my back was to the door, I couldn’t be certain if he could see me clearly. When there was no beat of recognition, no pause to his fury, I let out a soft sigh of relief and scrambled back once I delivered the weapon.
“Spread your fingers,” the mob prince ordered. “If you pull away, I won’t miss twice.”
The goon resisted.