“Stop that.”
Bianca leans in and hugs me. “Ah, I’m teasing. You know that. Anyway, I’m done for the day.” She straightens and jabs her thumb in the direction of Mr. Carboni’s room. “You, on the other hand, you gotta wait another half hour. I’m leaving. I’ll see you back home.”
That means I won’t be sharing Damien on the walk home. I almost forgive her.
When ’tis time, I knock on 16-115’s door, then call. Twice. I open the door an inch.
“Chambermaid!”
No answer, so in I go. Well now, isn’t Mr. Carboni sitting right there in the same spot, grinning at me. He has the biggest hands I’ve ever seen, and they’re linked together on his desk.
“I’m so sorry, sir!” I cry, spinning back to the door. “I’ll come back later.”
He chuckles. “Thisislater, Rosie Ryan. Don’t go. The suite’s a mess. It needs going over. I’ll sit here and leave you alone to work.”
I feel my pulse in my throat. “Uh, all right, sir. I’ll just… Would you like me to start in the bedroom?”
“Where do you normally start?”
I feel sick. This is awful. ’Twas bad enough when Bianca was here. I don’t want to be alone with him.
“I start in this room, sir.”
“I’ll get out of your way, then.”
He gets up, and I try not to stare. He’s a head taller than me, and his shoulders are wide as the door. His face is round, and his thick eyebrows angle down the middle. He is not handsome in the least. For the life of me, I can’t understand what Bianca is thinking.
What should I do? Beg him to stay put, and I’ll work elsewhere? Pretend it’s nothing at all for me to be working around him and his pistol? My mind’s in a muddle.
Worse than that, I cannot move. Mr. Carboni comes toward me, and I see a wolf in his smile. For the second time today, I feel like a rabbit, with every muscle primed to flee, only this time I’m frozen with fear.
His hands curl over my shoulders. “You’re trembling, Miss Ryan.”
I can’t speak. Why is he touching me like this? He leans a tiny bit closer, and I stop breathing.
“I don’t know what you’ve heard, but there ain’t no reason,” he says, his eyes a dark, liquid brown, his voice like thick gravy, “to be scared of me.”
I saw your gun. I know who you are. I have every reason to be frightened.
“You’re good at your job, Rosie,” he tells me smoothly. “I admire that in a person.”
I snap back, and my feet are free to step out of his reach.
“Thank you, Mr. Carboni,” I say quick. “We’re honoured that you have chosen to make the Dominion Hotel your home when you’re in Toronto. I am fortunate to be the one to clean your suite.”
“Yeah? That’s nice.” He blinks slow and lazy. “I like that you’re my chambermaid, Rosie.”
I edge away, step by step, until I’m at the door. Listen, I’ll not be scrubbing a thing with him breathing over me like that. I’ll apologize to Mrs. Evans. She’ll know what to do.
“Have a pleasant evening, Mr. Carboni,” I blurt, then I’m out in the hallway again, the door latched behind me. I think I hear him laughing behind the closed door, and that’s no help. I push my trolley to the elevator, and only when I’m headed down do I lose control of myself. I’m shaking like mad, panting hard enough to see sparks. I won’t cry in case anyone passes by, so I suck back my tears. The elevator reaches the basement, the door opens, and I roll the trolley out in front.
“Miss Ryan?”
Mrs. Evans. Christ above. Why do I feel like ’tis me what’s done something wrong?
“Good evening, ma’am.”
She frowns. “What’s wrong, Rosie?”
