Chapter 9 – Rae #2
With a nod, I turned back to the house. Sunday family dinner was over—thank heavens.
So far, no one had mentioned my involvement last night.
I was almost ready to let myself believe I was in the clear.
I’d avoided serving directly again, but it was probably the last time.
I was going to be forced to wait at table. Which meant Dominico would see me.
“I doubt he’ll even notice,” I muttered.
A derisive laugh fluttered through my mind.
“I’m serious,” I snapped to the inner mockery. “With someone like Arabella sitting next to him, he’ll probably be so focused at meals, he won’t notice the maid, who happened to steal from him.”
Who he maimed one of his men for because he was a principled devil.
There was a scheduled lull right now. We were taking turns for a lunch break, and if I hurried, I would be able to enjoy the full hour.
My feet screamed in protest as I rushed toward the fancy double wide glass doors.
I was going to risk cutting through the main house, choosing the more direct path to the kitchen and workrooms. Going around the house outside was too dang hot, and the service corridors might be set with booby traps, like the housekeeper finding something for me to do really quick before I took my break.
I wanted to start my damn break on time!
The sunroom was empty, and I closed the glass-paneled French door.
Unless we were cleaning this space, there was no reason to be here.
I glanced around, searching for a magazine out of place or a stray cup, but the ladies hadn’t been in here after their dinner.
I crossed the room and paused to listen at the door.
Nothing.
But these doors were so thick, very solid, and made of real wood.
Biting my lip, I turned the knob. I would have to risk it.
A husky laugh made me freeze.
Crap.
“Well, ain’t that like a catfish in a bathtub,” I grumbled.
But as I leaned against the door, heart pounding and feeling stuck, the voices seemed to be coming from inside this room.
I frowned and turned.
Definitely not in the hall. They were right there.
I should have escaped, should have slipped out the door while the coast was clear. Instead, I backtracked, following the male conversation.
Crouching under the side table, the one that held an ugly, oversized vase with fake stocks of feathery grains, I pressed my ear against the wall. Nothing. I could have sworn….
“This is stupid.” I fisted my hands at my side. “Get out of this room, before you’re caught and get in trouble.”
The husky voice murmured again.
“Well, shit.” I crawled on my hands and knees until I reached a covered outlet. It was just a nondescript piece of plastic where a normal wall outlet should have been. I dug my nail behind the covering. The screws, which were loose, popped out.
Stifling my gasp, I couldn’t help but smile when the voices came through clearer. This part of the house was the new addition, and it seemed the electrician hadn’t connected the wiring through here.
“Have you got a bride picked out for Marcellius?”
The voice came through clear as day.
Peering through the hole, I saw a grate on the other side. Maybe it was supposed to be part of the HVAC system, or just a connection through the walls. Either way, I leaned forward to snoop, fear of detection forgotten.
“Several of my capos have daughters. I’ll pick a nice, quiet girl who won’t give him too much grief,” Mr. Grimaldi announced.
“Is there such a girl?”
“Someone who won’t mind his unacceptable tendencies?” Mr. Grimaldi harumphed. “So long as he keeps his preference for his partners quiet, there’s no need to bring his choices to light.”
“This is the twenty-first century, Francesco. Be careful who you talk like that to,” the other voice warned.
“Jacque, I run a multi-billion-dollar empire. Insulting a group of people is the least of my concerns,” the boss sneered.
“Let me explain how this works.” Jacque cleared his throat.
“You insult your grandson’s choice in sexual partners.
Some of your people will probably applaud.
They’re strict, old fashioned, and believe in traditional marriages.
You think it’s fine. That you’re winning brownie points with them.
But when word gets out—and with technology, that’s a probability—you become the face of homophobia.
‘The rich businessman against the sweet, gay grandson.’ With all the press will come the digging.
And when the public digs, they find things.
Then I have to work double time to clear up our end and make sure nothing slips into the public eye about your other businesses. ”
“If my legal matters aren’t airtight, what am I paying you for?” Mr. Grimaldi snapped.
“You’re paying for my advice,” Jacque countered. “And it’s this: Let Marcellius’s wife be a girl who’s open to sharing him. He can keep his lifestyle, you can keep out of the public’s eye, and everyone wins.”
There was a long pause, then the boss muttered, “You’re right. But he needs to be settled. Already there are too many rumors.”
“Will he marry the girl you choose?” the lawyer prodded.
“Of course he will. They all do as they’re told.”
My gut twisted with a sickening feeling. Placing the cover back over the hole, I used the corner of my thumbnail to secure the screws enough so they wouldn’t fall out. Later, I would have to come back with something stronger to secure them.
“That old bastard,” I seethed.
It wasn’t enough that the boss just sat in his chair, ornery like a wet hen, but he had no consideration for anyone’s personal lives.
It was harder and harder to hate Arabella when she was so sweet.
Talk like this proved how little choice she had in her future—though I still argued she should stand up for herself.
Even just a little. But this? This was a new low.
I detested the grandfather for what he was doing to his grandson.
Scheming to marry him off to the wrong person.
Disgusting.
It’s not your problem.
As I slipped into the hall and made a beeline for the kitchen, I had to agree with my inner consciousness. Whatever happened in this house of horrors had little to do with me. I was merely passing through.
But there was an itch, right between my shoulder blades, that I couldn’t scratch. The complete and utter lack of justice didn’t sit right with me. Standing by, watching it happen, felt like I was complicit in the crimes.