Chapter 37 – Rae
Nico: I’m back. Did you miss me?
Me: I’m working.
Nico: There’s a mess in the sunroom. Better bring your broom.
Me: Why? So I can shove it up your ass?
Nico: Or I could shove something else in yours.
I stared at the screen. The stupid smile wouldn’t fall off my lips, but at the last message, heat rushed to my cheeks.
I didn’t consider myself the adventurous type of girl in that sense.
But the idea of letting Dominico Grimaldi pop the cherry to my back door had wicked ideas running through my mind.
If anyone could gain access back there, it was him.
I would do whatever that man wanted in the bedroom. I was Pavlov’s dog, instantly aroused at the idea of his hands on my body. Why not try something new? Something…dirty. Something fun.
It wasn’t like we had time to lock ourselves away right now. The Signora was having a luncheon in an hour. The whole house had been turned upside down, because some famous socialite deigned to grace our lady with her presence.
But I had five minutes to sneak a kiss.
Maybe some heavy petting and foreplay.
Hurrying down the front stairs, I passed the housekeeper. “Everything’s set up here. I’ll start setting the dining room with Theo.”
The old witch gave me a withering look. “Use the blue-rimmed porcelain.”
We already knew that. But I smiled and nodded. Not even her bitchy attitude could dampen the anticipation coursing through me. Once I disappeared from her sight, I took off running. I burst into the sunroom, looked around, and my chest fell.
It was empty.
“Where the hell—”
The door closed with a bang. My heart jumped against my ribs, but before I could take a breath, I was pinned against the wall behind the door.
Nico’s mouth was on mine. His hands were hard and hot as they explored my body. I reached for him, pulling him closer. Teeth sank into my lip, and I squeaked.
He chuckled against me. His tongue stroked the stinging spot as his hand found mine. In a loose, gentle grip, he captured my right wrist.
My breath hitched at the contact, but he slowly drug my hand down his body until my palm rested against his erection.
“Do you see what you do to me?” he growled.
I nodded and kissed him hard. He kept his hand around my wrist and stroked himself with mine.
He broke away and whispered against my ear. “All day, Magnolia Rae, all fucking day I’ve been hard.”
“Stop thinking about me then,” I whispered.
Nico shook his head. His warm breath fanned my ear. “I can’t, baby. I hear the noises you make in my head. They’re burned into my brain.”
I shivered as pure, euphoric delight slid down my spine.
I had the same problem. He’d come to my room last night.
Gagging me, he’d given me not one, not two, but three orgasms, before picking me up and fucking me against the wall where we both came hard.
Those were memories I would take to my grave.
“Once my grandma is done with her stupid lunch, come to my room,” he suggested.
I squeezed his cock, making him groan. “You know I can’t.”
“Please.” His voice sounded hoarse, almost pained. “Please, cherry-bomb, come have mercy on me.”
Begging. Dominico Grimaldi, a force to be reckoned with, was begging me to come to him.
How was any red-blooded woman supposed to say no to that?
But before I could give him my answer and create a plan to oblige, the door to the sunroom pushed open. Nico was off me in a flash, catching the door and facing the intruder. I held my breath, suddenly very cold as the arousal left me for a burst of fresh fear.
“What do you want?” Nico bit out.
“Just checking the room, signore. Mi dispiace!” the housekeeper said quickly.
Nico’s voice promised death. “Don’t you know how to knock, woman?”
“I—I am just doing my job. The ladies will be in here shortly!” Sanderson stuttered.
“Well, they aren’t here yet, and you know damn well my grandmother will receive them in the front parlor,” Nico snarled. “Is there nowhere in this house I can work without being disturbed?”
“Yes, of course, signore. I’ll leave you alone,” she rushed to say, and with that, Nico slammed the door in her face.
I sagged against the wall. Fury glittered in Nico’s dark eyes as he slid his gaze to me.
“I should go,” I whispered.
That hard jaw clenched, and he gave me a short nod. But before I could take a step to the French doors, he caught my arm—my right arm.
He brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss on the inside of my wrist. “It won’t be like this for much longer, Rae.”
My stupid little heart did a flip. But it had no effect on my mind. Fear still coursed through my veins, and I was scolding myself for being so reckless. Nico let me go, and I fled outside. Heat baked through my uniform as I hurried to the staff entrance.
If they catch you, they’ll fire you. And probably Uncle Theo too.
This sneaking about was fun, but the game was far too dangerous.
Nothing bad would happen to the precious heir.
The Grimaldis wouldn’t even scold him. Hell, his grandfather might be the sort to smack his back and say ‘good job, lad’ over having an affair with the staff.
Rich men always did that. While Nico was different, treating me with the utmost respect and showing real care, he moved in a different world than I did.
Panting hard and properly shaken, I burst into the kitchen. Cathy smiled at me from where she was slicing the bread for lunch.
“Can you spare me a few seconds to help plate the butters?” she asked.
“Sure,” I wheezed. “Where are they?”
“In the molds, setting in the fridge.” My coworker jerked her chin. “They go on the tiny plates with blue around the edge.”
“What the hell is so special about these dishes?” I muttered, pulling the stack from the edge counter and grabbing the butter from the fridge. They were formed in the shape of blossoming roses, and it was my job to pluck them from the molds without ruining Cathy’s hard work.
“Signora Grimaldi bought them on her honeymoon,” Sanderson sneered, coming into the kitchen and catching the question. “They’re from Frankfurt & Sons in London, and cost more than you’re worth, so don’t break them.”
I looked at the ugly plates. Such a stupid display of wealth and greed. Who cared what plates were used, so long as they worked?
“Magnolia, did you finish your work?” Sanderson snapped.
“Yes, ma’am. Just helping finish in here,” I said through my teeth.
“What about the baseboards in the sunroom?”
Don’t react. Don’t react! “Yes, I wiped those this morning and logged it in the tablet.”
The housekeeper narrowed her eyes. “Fine.”
She left in a cloud of putrid energy. Cathy let out a long breath the moment the door swung behind the housekeeper.
“Something crawled up her ass today,” my coworker muttered.
“She didn’t eat her Wheaties,” Franky said, coming from the pantry with a tray of dried meats to be made into artful charcuterie boards.
They chuckled, and I tried to join in the joke on the outside. But internally, I was sweating bullets. It was too close a call for comfort.
New rule: No sneaking around during the day.
Nico was going to have to listen to my fear. While he would argue it was unfounded, I knew he would respect my wishes and agree. That thought had me relaxing.
But not enough to be gentle getting the butter out of the mold.
The porcelain cracked, chipping at the corner.
I stared in horror at the sight. My heart stopped beating. This was the end. I was finished!
Franky’s laughter grated on my already stressed soul. I shot him a glare.
“Don’t tease her,” Cathy scolded. “Can’t you see how scared she is?”
Franky wiped his eye. “What I’m about to tell you doesn’t leave this room.”
Cathy came around the island and squeezed my shoulder. “Not even your uncle knows.”
I drew in a ragged breath. “What?” I croaked.
“Those are forgeries,” Cathy whispered. “We broke most of her honeymoon dishes years ago.”
“They’re too fucking brittle,” Franky added. “We keep them locked in a spare closet.”
Cathy nodded and left the kitchen.
“Give me the broken one, and start plating the butter,” he said gently.
Confused, disgusted, and annoyed, I managed to extricate one pat of butter by the time Cathy returned with an identical-looking white plate with blue edging.
“Sit down and have something to drink,” she commanded, plucking the butter molds from my fingers. “I won’t shoot you for breaking the plate, but if you ruin the hours I wasted on the stupid butter, I’ll cut that bun off the top of your head, Rae.”