Chapter 42 – Rae
“Magnolia, come with me,” the housekeeper barked, pushing into the kitchen. “Now.”
Franky balanced the mattarello on its end.
For a moment, it seemed like he was going to smack Sanderson over the head with the long rolling pin.
My fingers were coated in sticky scrambled eggs that I’d been mixing into the well of flour.
I was on the schedule to help him prep the ravioli, and we’d only just begun to make the pasta dough.
“Um, okay.” I lifted my hands. “Is there any way it can wait—”
“Now! The signora is waiting!” The wicked witch looked downright gleeful.
“Scrape what you can off your fingers, and we can resume when you’re done,” Franky said tightly.
“Oh, she won’t be resuming anything,” Sanderson sneered.
Worms writhed in my stomach. But I took my time cleaning up, enjoying how the housekeeper fumed. The moment we stepped into the service passage, Sanderson poked my ribs.
“Move, move!”
I pulled up short. “Don’t touch me.”
Her mouth wrinkled, but she wisely kept her hands to herself.
“What’s going on?” I asked, because the suspense was killing me.
“You’ll see,” she practically sang out.
I wracked my brains trying to figure out where I’d messed up. I hadn’t been caught with Nico—although he’d found me vacuuming the library and kissed me until I couldn’t breathe. I hadn’t broken any more dishes either.
Smoothing my apron, I followed the housekeeper into the sunroom. The lady of the house flipped through a magazine in her brocade armchair but set it aside the moment we stepped inside.
“Magnolia, thank you for coming.” Mrs. Grimaldi folded her hands over her lap. “I have a few questions for you.”
I nodded, the worms flipping and squirming inside me. It didn’t matter what she did to me. It was my uncle that I was most worried about.
I won’t let her hurt him.
“You cleaned Arabella’s room this morning?” Mrs. Grimaldi asked, tipping her head to the side.
There was no telling where this was going. “Yes, ma’am.”
“What were you doing in there?”
The question took me aback. “Um, vacuum. Make the bed. Dust. Wipe down the bathroom, and I took out the trash.”
Mrs. Grimaldi hummed. “You were in and out rather quickly.”
Great. Now they were timing me.
“Was it unsatisfactory? I kept to the protocol.” I shot a look to the side.
Sanderson was practically dancing on her toes.
“Did you touch any of my darling goddaughter’s things?” Mrs. Grimaldi asked, staring hard at me.
“Only to clean around them.”
The housekeeper scoffed.
I clenched my jaw so as not to react.
Mrs. Grimaldi sighed. “It seems that Arabella’s necklace is missing. It was an early birthday present from the signore and me. Since you’re the only other person who’s been in her room, this puts us in an uncomfortable position.”
“The necklace was on her vanity.” I knew the one she was talking about. It was five million dollars’ worth of shiny diamond set in platinum. Arabella had showed it to me yesterday and declared it was the ugliest thing she’d ever seen.
“I didn’t touch it, if that’s what you’re insinuating,” I added, feeling the heat bubble inside me.
Because that was exactly what this felt like—an accusation.
I might be a thief, but I was smart. Lifting something that expensive would be noticeable. Besides, I didn’t need five million dollars. I wasn’t leaving. My new life was here.
“Arabella has been crying all morning!” Mrs. Grimaldi said dramatically. “You can only imagine how devastated she is to find it missing. Such a special gift from her godparents.”
Yeah, there was no way Arabella was weeping over that hunk of sparkly metal. Not when she said it was just a fancy collar with an invisible leash.
“Magnolia, this is sensitive.” Mrs. Grimaldi’s tone fell flat. “But if the necklace isn’t found, we have no choice but to assume you have it.”
These ladies had no idea how close I was to pitchin’ a fit. I could scream at them. I could throw something, especially at Sanderson’s smug face!
But I kept my head.
It was a freaking miracle.
“I understand,” I said coolly. “This makes me look bad.”
Mrs. Grimadli’s brows rose. “It does. Unfortunately, I have mixed reports on you, Magnolia, so I’m not sure how to assess the situation.”
Mixed reports. Any one of my coworkers would tell her how great I was. There was only one fly in her ear that buzzed about me.
I should squash Sanderson.
“I’ll check her locker, signora,” the witch offered.
I was about to laugh and tell her not to bother, when a stone sank on my chest. The situation became all too clear. The locker was the stupidest place to hide such a prize, but that was exactly where the housekeeper would miraculously find it.
If I tried to stop her, I would look guilty.
If I didn’t, the mafia would think I stole the millions.
Sweat broke over my skin. It was suddenly hard to breathe.
Nico, where are you!
I was proud to be the girl that never needed saving. But if there ever was a time for it, my dark knight needed to show up. Right the fuck now!
“Go ahead,” Mrs. Grimaldi sighed. “Magnolia, please stay here.”
The door to the sunroom opened before I could respond. My pulse jumped. The knight’s name was on the tip of my tongue.
But it wasn’t the Grimaldi prince.
Arabella dashed into the room, breathing hard. She grinned at me. From her outstretched fingertips was the stupid, god-awful necklace.
“Found it,” she panted.
The look on the housekeeper’s face was priceless. Sanderson turned eggplant purple, and her thin lips twisted into the ugliest pout.
“Carina!” Mrs. Grimaldi shot to her feet. “Explain. Now.”
“It was under the armoire,” Arabella said triumphantly. But she wasn’t looking at her godmother.
No, the little princess smirked at the housekeeper.
Pressing the tips of her finger against her forehead, Mrs. Grimaldi sank into her chair. “Such a fuss for nothing. Magnolia, my apologies. But you understand my concern.”
“Absolutely, ma’am,” I responded. The relief was too sweet. This had almost been a nightmare, and I doubted it was over. The bigger threat still lingered in the background. It was only the first attack.
Time to counter it.
“Arabella, you need to be more careful with your things. We can’t be accusing the staff like this,” Mrs. Grimaldi said flatly. She fanned herself with the magazine as though she had been the one sweating bullets. “Magnolia, please continue with your day.”
No apology.
No admission of being in the wrong.
Just a simple, ‘keep cleaning my shit’ and a dip of her chin.
“As if it never happened,” I assured the great lady.
I hated her. She was easily manipulated and didn’t care about her employees.
But why should she? She’d never worked a day in her life.
If the easy thing was to accuse us of theft without a thorough investigation, then that was the path she would always choose.
I retreated before I did anything stupid—like wink at the housekeeper. I knew what she was up to, and now she’d made things personal.
Back in the kitchen, I caught Franky and Cathy, heads bent together, whispering rapidly. They turned as one and the shock turned to relief as they looked at me.
“You know?” I guessed.
“Yeah, but it looks like Arabella was fast enough!” Cathy said, rushing forward to give me a hug.
I wrapped my arms awkwardly around her back, feeling a little odd at her enthusiasm. We worked together, but apparently, the other housemaid thought that made us friends.
Maybe we should be.
It wasn’t like I was running away.
I hugged her tighter, patting her spine as the story tumbled out of the maid.
“Arabella saw Sanderson go into her room after breakfast. She followed her, and she spent quite a bit of time in her office before going to have her morning check-in with the signora. That was when Arabella went upstairs and noticed the necklace was missing, and she put two and two together.”
“It took us until now to break into the housekeeper’s office,” Franky added, spinning a screwdriver between his fingers. “The bitch has it out for you.”
The housekeeper would have gone to check my locker, stopping by her office to grab the necklace and pretend to have found it in my things.
That…bitch.
“I’ll get her,” I promised.
Cathy pulled back with a gasp. I realized too late it might not have been the best thing to say out loud. But the smile on her face pushed away the moment of panic.
“If you need any help, I’d better be your first call,” she whispered, squeezing my arms.
I squeezed her back. “Thanks.”
“Seriously, I’m your girl!” Cathy insisted. “I’m down for drinks, shopping, murder, or even a pedicure!”
With a laugh, I returned to the pasta making.
It was more fun now as we plotted how we were going to take out the wicked old housekeeper.
It was hard to say whose suggestions were more violent—the cook’s or the maid’s.
Normal people didn’t do this at their work.
Sure, they might talk about a manager’s demise, but bless our hearts, this was the mob and we were the little psychos who found our place here.