Chapter 9 – Rae
Cold saltwater clung to my fingertips as I held the towel to the light.
The rusty red stain glared back at me from the beige fibers.
I pressed my lips tight and stared right back.
Baking soda and a brush were the next items on the check list after the cold saltwater soak.
Why these people didn’t just get new towels was beyond me.
“Scrub the blood out, Magnolia Rae. Wipe the scuff marks off the wall. Bleach the toilet, Maggie girl, come on, come on, come on!” I chanted under my breath.
I was losing my mind.
And who wouldn’t? Living in a house filled with dangerous criminals but going about our day pretending they were normal folks. It was insane. Especially after the mess they left in the powder room. No one admitted it was blood on the hand towels, walls, or sink. I was simply told to clean it up.
Ice rattled down my spine, but I pushed it away. Nothing bad had happened…yet.
“Ciao, carina, tutto bene?” Franky called out. He wasn’t talking to me.
I peered through the door to see Cathy lean in close to where he was stirring the soup for lunch. The twinkle in her eye spoke volumes. She shot a quick glance around then pecked his cheek.
The cook chuckled. “Hey now, we aren’t supposed to be doing that here.”
“No one’s around to catch us,” she encouraged.
I hid my snicker of delight. We were supposed to be robots, held to impossible standards of inhuman behavior. It was nice to see my coworkers were just as rebellious as me.
“The prince is here,” Cathy sighed.
“He missed Mass?” Franky wrapped his arm around her and looked at the clock on the opposite wall.
Cathy shook her head and buried her face in his chest. Whatever she said was muffled.
“Ah, that will be a fight,” Franky sighed. “Poor man needs a drink. There’s still a mess from last night—poor Rae’s been trying to clean it up for over an hour.”
I scooted away from the door, confused by the gossip. Cathy poked her head into the work room a second later.
“Need any help?” she offered.
Looking up, I shrugged. “This wine stain isn’t coming out.”
Cathy gave me a knowing look. “Wine stains can be tricky. I’m just going to run a tray to the library, then I can have a look at it.”
The danger from last night pulsed in my mind. So far, no one had clapped handcuffs around my wrists—or worse, fed me to the fishes. Franky had been nothing but chipper, offering me coffee and a smile when my shift started at five. That was the extent of it.
I couldn’t keep the shivers from racing down my spine.
Without thinking, words tumbled out of my mouth. “I can run the tray. Why don’t you sit a minute?”
Cathy gave me a funny look but didn’t argue. I hurried into the kitchen, helped load cookies on the plate while Franky set a carafe of coffee, a tiny cup, spoon, and saucer on the tray, and then waited while he also put a tumbler of amber liquid next to it.
“Tell Mr. Dom that it’s happy hour somewhere,” he said with a wink.
My inner self-preservation screamed at me as I left the kitchen.
Was I really doing this? Facing down the object I hadn’t stopped fixating about since Friday?
I couldn’t figure out what I would gain from the encounter.
I told myself it was to make sure I was safe and that the de-fingering wouldn’t come back to haunt me.
But if I was being truthful, I wanted to make sure Dominico was okay.
“I need to make sure he doesn’t accuse me about the watch,” I scolded myself as the heels of my shoes clipped across the tiles.
Sure…tell yourself that’s why.
“It is,” I argued.
Pushing into the library, I realized I should have knocked. Gloom and the musk of old books swallowed me as I tumbled inside.
“Yes?” barked a voice from the back.
Dominico faced the window, body sprawled over a leather chair. The blinds were closed, and there wasn’t a single lamp on to read. He just sat there. In the dark.
I felt it then. His mood was volatile. The crackle of electricity right before the storm opened up.
Forcing myself not to sound like cornbread and sweet tea, I said in a breathless hush, “Franky sent you something to drink.”
There was a pause.
“Sorry for barging in here,” I tacked on for good measure.
And because I meant it.
Dominico sighed. “Just put it on the coffee table.”
“Do you…want a light to read?” I offered. Normal people would scamper away. Maybe it was my curiosity, or maybe it was the palpable tension, but I couldn’t make my feet move.
“If I wanted a damn light on, I could do it myself,” he snapped.
And just like that, any hope of friendly conversation over the events of last night fizzled out. There was nothing I could say to make him feel better. I sure as hell wasn’t part of this world. He was a big boy. He knew the stakes.
He can take care of himself.
“Jeezes, sorry,” I clipped out. “Just trying to return the favor.”
“Don’t.”
I laughed roughly. “No worries. It won’t happen again. Enjoy your fucking coffee and booze.” My feet stomped to the door.
“Wait.”
That command cracked against my spine like the tip of a whip.
“I’m sorry. You caught me…at a bad time.”
“Clearly,” I snorted.
“You’re new here.” Dominico turned in his chair, peering across the room.
I inched behind the door to prevent the light from the hall to fall on my face. “Yep.”
Dominico studied me, but it wasn’t like he could see properly.
No doubt he was smart enough to realize I was the one he’d saved.
But he didn’t bring up the attack. Didn’t ask if I was okay.
The silence pulsed in time to the grandfather clock’s steady rhythm.
I felt his gaze and forced myself not to fidget, while the voices in my head screamed at me, demanding to know what I was doing here in the first place.
Cathy wouldn’t have received such an unwelcoming welcome.
No, I just had to come and try to make it better.
It was the danger, I decided. This man wore it like one of those custom suits. It was addictive. I couldn’t stay away.
“What’s your name?” he finally asked.
“Bennett.”
Dominico made a sound at the back of his throat that radiated his displeasure. “Do you have a first name, Bennett?”
“Sure do. And a middle one too. How about I give you my social while I’m at it?” I bit my tongue too late.
“Funny one.” Dominico rose. He prowled closer. My breath hitched, but he stopped halfway at the central coffee table. “Tell Franky thank you for the drink.”
That was it.
No shared bonding over the mutilation. The dark knight wasn’t going to check in with my feelings.
What an idiot! Lord Almighty, had I really been expecting him to care?
I had.
It dawned on me. Dominico Grimaldi hadn’t saved me because it was me.
He didn’t know me! I was stupid for thinking it was anything personal.
He’d walked in on one of the servants being attacked, and he’d only stepped in because he probably felt some claim on me—me, the maid.
Not me, the person. He would have done the same if I were any other piece of property.
A dog or a car too. Hell, he’d probably have more feeling if I had been his precious sports car.
I resisted the urge to wrap my arms around myself.
“Will do!” I scooted around the door and drew it closed behind me.
Yeah, I was stupid for thinking he’d notice me. That he would be interested to know someone he’d met before now worked for his grandfather. I was just a servant, a tool to a man like this. It would be better to stay in the shadows. He was never going to look at me.
***
“Thank you, Rae.” Arabella sat up, pulling the lace wrap around her shoulders. “Such a beautiful summer. Too bad it will be fall in a couple months. I wish I could live down south where you’re from. I’d give anything to trade the mild winters for the blizzards we get up here.”
I hummed politely.
A fiery breeze whispered over my long sleeve uniform. I wanted to rip the black long sleeves off and let it kiss me. Bright green leaves rustled above, and the hot sun twinkled down, mocking us with its brilliance.
Must be nice to curl up out here and read all afternoon. “Is there anything else I can bring you, Miss?”
Arabella placed her book upside down, keeping the open page on her knees. “No, but…can I ask you something?”
“Of course.” I shifted, easing the blisters on my left heel while putting my weight gingerly on the ones forming on the left.
“Have you ever been to a ghost tour?”
I jerked slightly. “What?”
“A ghost tour? Local haunts, spooky places,” Arabella explained. “Have you been?”
“Um, not exactly,” I answered. “At Halloween, they used to do a haunted corn maze, but that was just an excuse to…um….”
Drink and fuck in the corn.
“Kind of lame, really,” I added quickly.
Why on earth was she asking me? Such a random question—the type friends discussed.
Arabella sighed and picked up her coffee. “Well, if you like that kind of thing, there’s a good one at Wellsey Farms.”
“Oh, okay, thank you,” I said, still at a loss for words.
“Tomorrow’s your day off, right.” Arabella peered up at me. Her dark lashes were thick and free of mascara. She didn’t need it to make her eyes pop. “Just thought you might want to do something fun.”
“With you?” I blurted out, unable to stop myself.
Arabella winced.
“Shit, sorry,” I recovered. “I didn’t mean it to sound like that.”
“No, it’s okay,” Arabella sighed. “And no, I’m not allowed to do those kinds of things. I just was thinking of something for you, since you’re new in town.”
That was…sweet.
And wholly unexpected. What was the precious goddaughter looking up ghost tours for? That had nothing to do with pretty dresses or lounging at the club. Maybe she was just thinking of something I would like to do.
I rubbed my tongue against the roof of my mouth, trying to dispel the sour taste.
“I’ll look into it.” Then after a pause I added an awkward, “Thanks.”
Her smile could win an award. “You’re welcome! There are lots of other events if ghost tours aren’t your thing. I’ve got tons of ideas. Ask me anytime!”
The poor thing….
“Thanks,” I repeated.