I could cry. “Every time you say something like that, I like you more, Matthew Buchanan.”
He’s surprised by that, and pleased. “Dancing?”
“Or keeping me safe, or whatever.”
“But I will,” he says, leaning closer for emphasis. “I will keep you safe, Bridget. I’ve never hit anyone or anything in my life, but I would.” He hesitates. “I need you to know that it’s not just words.”
My heart is racing. “When we’re allowed out in public again, how about we do something we both love and go to the ROM?”
He sits up tall, riveted. “The Egyptian mummies? Or are you more of a Chinese temple art admirer?”
“Either of those,” I say with a grin. “But mostly dinosaurs.”
“Sounds like the perfect date to me,” he replies happily.
PART 3ROSIE RYAN
1929
chapterTWENTY–FIVE
AUGUST
I’ve decided not to say a word to Damien about Mr. Carboni’s ten dollars. I was going to and didn’t I work myself into a real state over it. But sure, it’s my own money, and I’ve convinced myself that there’s no call to feel guilty over it. I’m a touch nervous, mind, on account of who gave it to me, but it’s already folded and wrapped, tucked safe beneath all the coins in my box under the bed. Someday Damien and I will pool all our cash and build a grand life, and he will never have to be the wiser. Still, that doesn’t make me any less nervous around Mr. Carboni.
When I get to work, the truth is, I can’t rightly meet Bianca’s gaze. She is watching to see if I’ll say a blessed thing to her, but I don’t want to explode here at work. This is not the right place to lose my temper. Faith, she is making things difficult. Every time I think of her these days, or catch a glimpse, she’s doing something to get on my last nerve. That includes a couple of times I spied her leaving Mr. Carboni’s suite. What in the name of God does she think she’s doing? She’s playing with fire. I don’t want any of that heat to burn me.
“Sei così drammatica, ragazza mia,” she says today.
I’ve just come out of a clean room, and I have been dreading this conversation. From her sideways smirk and the way she’s studying me from under her long lashes, I know that whatever she just said means something bad.
I glare at her, waiting.
“I said you’re sodramatic, my friend. I see you’re angry at me, but you’d rather fill up with it than spill it. Come on. I’ve known you forever. Tell me what’s bothering you.”
So many things, but right now, it’s her. “How’s Nico?”
That takes her by surprise. “Why would you ask about him?”
“Seems like you’re spending more time flirting with Mr. Carboni than your boyfriend.”
“Who says I gotta choose between them?”
I’m appalled. She’s purring like a cat after a bowl full of cream.
“You’ve enough cheek for a second arse. What are you doing? Mrs. Evans has been very clear. We’re to have nothing to do with Mr. Carboni.”
“Don’t matter to me what she says. Don’t matter to him, neither. I heard them talking yesterday, and he wasn’t interested in whatever she was saying.”
“You shouldn’t be listening in.”
She leans toward me. “They were near the kitchen, and she was trying to be civil, but he was talking low and slowly, you know? Like when he’s being a little scary? I looked around when he said something to her about a man named Wally, and Mrs. Evans seemed frightened, then she got angry. She told Carboni to leave Wally out of it. She sounded almost desperate, which is something I ain’t heard before.”
“Wally? I wonder who that is.”
“She was saying things like Wally knows nothing, and he’s already doing too much for him. Carboni didn’t care. He just kept warning her to stop getting in his way or Wally would pay.”
“What was it she said to set him off?”
