Chapter 19 – Rae
Shutting off the vacuum for a moment, I gave Arabella a small wave. She was too busy tucking a dark glass tincture bottle in her Gucci bag and nearly tripped on the cord.
“Watch it,” I gasped, reaching out to steady her.
She closed the bag and gave me a worried look before schooling her face into one of anguish.
Almost as if she’d practiced it.
“Thanks,” she sighed. “I don’t know where my head is at today.”
“It’s been a lot,” I agreed, rubbing her shoulders before I remembered that the natural gesture of comfort wasn’t considered proper. “How’s your godfather feeling?”
“He’s getting better.” Her smile wasn’t convincing. “But he’s not out of the woods yet.”
“Let me know if there is anything I can do,” I offered.
And meant it.
“Thanks,” she repeated mechanically and continued down the stairs. Something was on her mind. She seemed distracted.
I shrugged it off and turned back to my work.
The vacuum hummed along the cracks and crevices. The edge of the step bit my knee, and my arm ached from balancing the body of the machine while my arm worked the nozzle.
It was a damn good thing the boss had a heart attack.
A cruel thing to think? I was aware. But it worked out fine for me, because it kept Dominico busy and always away from the house.
That thought probably sealed my damnation.
I didn’t grow up religious. There were a few stints where Mom’s boyfriends drug us to various churches.
I learned superstitious practices from the traditional ones, but my favorite was a reformed church with stadium seating and a really good choir.
I wanted to join, but Mom broke up with him before I had the chance.
And we never showed our faces back at the churches after one of her breakups.
But I did know it was wrong to think gleefully about someone else’s misery because there was personal benefit.
I worked the tip of the nozzle over the last step. After I was done, there was dusting and polishing of the banisters and the wood edges of the steps that weren’t protected by the carpet runner. Once the stairs gleamed, there would be more.
Sighing, I knelt back on my haunches and flicked the switch off.
“You look like you’re having fun.”
I yelped and rounded on the intruder. “Good Lord above! Don’t sneak up on a person like that.”
Luigi only flashed me a lupine grin. “Why don’t you put that thing away, and we’ll get going.”
“Come again?” I did a double take.
“Put the vacuum away,” he said slowly, annunciating as if I didn’t speak English. “And time to go.”
“What?”
He opened his mouth to repeat, but I held up my hand. “I ain’t deaf, bucko, but you’ve gotta explain yourself better than that.”
Luigi scratched his upper lip with the tip of his thumb. “I have a job for you.”
A job. For me. “Shut the front door.”
He looked over his shoulder. “Um, it is.”
I shook my head. There was most definitely a language barrier between us, but I didn’t care. “What do you need?”
If he thought he could order me around, add to my already growing pile of work, I would show him!
“Nico needs us.”
Those three words were like magic. Curiosity, coupled with a rush of insanity, had me perking up.
“You don’t say.” I wasn’t quite ready to jump to the mafia prince’s command.
“I did say—what? Do you not hear very well or something?” Luigi gave me a perplexed look.
“What does he need me for?” I let every word pack a full weight behind it.
It was a stall tactic. Did I want to see Dominico after the best sex of my life? Not really. Being around him was a bad idea. But the fact that he sent his friend to fetch me meant it was something juicy. Something better than polishing stair banister.
“That is top secret.” Luigi smirked. “Unless you’re too busy here.”
Was I? I looked at the stairs. Screw that.
“Out of the frying pan and into the fire,” I muttered.
“You’re weird.”
“You’re weirder.” I rose, yanked the extension cord from the wall, and began wrapping it up.
It took less than three minutes to put the vacuum away in the back corridor. I moved fast. The flutter in my veins said something fun was coming! But by the time I returned, Sanderson appeared in the foyer. She glared openly at the man lounging against the wall.
“As I said, Mr. Dominico isn’t here. And the Signora isn’t comfortable with your presence,” the housekeeper stated, tipping her chin up.
My steps slowed. There was no way in hell she was letting me leave mid-shift.
Hearing my approach, the housekeeper rounded on me. “Magnolia, there is dust on several of the banisters. You need to redo them.”
I opened my mouth to tell her I hadn’t done them yet, but Luigi spoke faster.
“Magnolia is coming with me. You’ll have to clean them yourself,” he said with the same imperious tone that had been used on him.
“Absolutely not,” Sanderson huffed.
“I wasn’t asking your permission,” Luigi said coolly. “Nico needs her.”
“She works here, and Mr. Dominico isn’t her boss,” the housekeeper sneered. She rounded on me and snapped her fingers. “The stairs, Magnolia. Now!”
Because the witch’s back was to him, she didn’t have time to dodge. Luigi wrapped an arm around her shoulder, hauling her back with a vicious snarl.
“I don’t like you.” His voice was ice. Cold and sharp. He reached into his pocket, producing a lighter. Flicking it open, he brought the flame close to her face.
Sanderson squealed like a stuck pig. She angled her head as far back as she could, but it didn’t work. Luigi brushed the tip of the flame under her chin.
Her scream echoed through the vaulted ceiling.
“There.” He flicked the lighter closed. “You won’t have to wax this week. Thank me later. And…don’t you ever tell me no again. When I want to use Rae, I get to use Rae. Understood?”
The old woman’s chest beat up and down as she hyperventilated.
“Do you understand?” Luigi barked. “Or do I need to remove your eyebrows next?”
“Ho capito—capito!” the housekeeper wailed.
“Va bene.” Luigi dropped her like a sack of garbage. Looking up at me, he winked. “Let’s go, Magnolia.”
I scurried to the front door, desperate to leave. In the choice between the incensed housekeeper who hated me, and the maniac who burnt her chin hairs off, the choice was easy.
As soon as the front door closed behind us, I slowed. “Can we stop by the butler’s cottage? I don’t want to appear in public wearing this—” I plucked at the uniform on my chest.
Luigi chuckled. “Sure thing. But that’s where we’re headed anyhow.”
He fell easily in step beside me as I quickened my pace.
“Why are we going to the butler’s house first?” I asked, already breathing hard.
“We need a fast car. Heard you have one.”
I nearly tripped. “Oh, okay.”
What in the hell do they want that for…oh.
Oh, no.
“It’s not for anything illegal, is it?” I skidded to a stop near the front door of the smaller house.
Luigi bent over. His laughter rang out around us. “You do know what kind of people you work for, right?”
“I do, which is why I don’t want my car being tagged.” I opened the front door.
“It won’t be,” Luigi wheezed. “Nico would never let anything happen to you.”
My stupid, stupid heart lit like a Christmas tree.
That statement was all too easy to believe.
Pushing inside, I stormed upstairs, giving myself a good talking to. This was the same song and dance I saw my mom perform. She met a guy, she believed him. And ultimately, her heart wound up broken again.
Men—especially rich men—didn’t care. Period. And I would be damned if I let Dominico Grimaldi make me a tool.
“So don’t go,” I snapped at myself, fingers paused over the last button on the bodice.
Glancing out the window at the big house, I chewed on the inside of my cheek.
The indecision didn’t last long. I reasoned myself out of the funk.
“I’m going because it sounds exciting.” Because I wanted to experience the world of shadows I was dancing on the edge of. I was a big girl; I could take care of myself.
I was not going because it meant spending time with Nico.
He was forbidden.
My chest tightened, but I pushed through the feeling. I was back outside, opening the garage door moments later.
“You should let me drive.” Luigi extinguished his cigarette. “Then I can rub it in Nico’s face.”
Pausing with the keys in hand, I tried to grapple with the overwhelming surge of…something. While letting Luigi break my rule sounded like fun, and part of me would enjoy the fact rubbed in Nico’s face, I felt oddly protective. Like Nico should be the one breaking my rules.
That’s not happening either. My brain jumped around like a live wire. It’s just your pussy messing with your heart.
“I don’t let men drive her,” I snapped. “Now get in.”