“I had a feeling.”
He considers this. “Why didn’t you tell me? We don’t keep secrets, Rosie.”
I know my cheeks are bright red. “I didn’t want you to fret over it. I was saving it for when me and you run away together.”
“Could have told me.”
I drop my chin to my chest. “I’m sorry. ’Twasn’t my aim to make you angry.”
“Not angry. A bit sad, maybe. You can tell me anything, Rosie. You know that.” He holds up the ten dollars. “What now? Are you going to give it back?”
“He gave it to me. I don’t think he’ll take it back. Can’t I keep it?”
His nod is slow. “Listen, you’re likely right that he won’t want it back, but I know the man. He’s not the generous type. Likely there are strings attached.”
That’s what I’ve been afraid of. “If you know him so well, what should I do?”
He tilts his face toward the ceiling, thinking, and I wait.
“I think you should first try to give the money back. Give him a chance to say yea or nay. If it’s nay, you keep it.” He pauses again. “C’mere to me, Rosie. When you work with Carboni, you must have eyes in the back of your head. He’s a dangerous man, make no mistake. He did not get where he is by being a friendly lad.” A slight frown creases his brow, and he turns the locket over on my chest so he can see the etching. “If he does anything to frighten you, get away quick as you can, Rosie. Come to me.”
I can’t tell him that whenever Mr. Carboni is near me, I am frightened. And that he gets nearer every time.
“You must stay on his good side,” Damien says. “Carboni’s not an enemy you want.”
“Are you on his good side?”
“He’s barely noticed me yet.”
I am in love with dear Damien’s smile. I know it’s love because when I see it, I am blinded to everything else. I’m certain he’s a rascal, and I know that whatever he is doing for Mr. Carboni is not good, but oh, that smile.
“Don’t let him notice you,” I say.
“The only one I want to notice me is you, Rosie.”
I am warm with love. “Don’t worry, Damien. I have noticed.”
“Now, put that away and let me see that photograph. Aren’t you the bonniest of them all?” he says. “I have one as well, of all the waiters.”
He digs it out of his bag and hands it to me. There he is with that handsome smile, putting the other lads to shame. I tell him so, and he kisses me. We decide to keep both photographs in my money box, to keep them safe.
I am keeping my head down as I work this morning, for I’m not feeling my best. It’s rare that I get sick, but all week I’ve been weary, and every bite I take comes right back up. I finish the room and step into the corridor, inhaling the relatively fresh air, thickened by the smell of the carpet and cigar smoke. Then I feel my stomach lurch for a whole different reason.
Bianca is standing in Mr. Carboni’s open doorway, one hand on her hip. I see it plain: her dark eyes, her long lashes batting slowly at the big man. The trouble is, he barely sees her. His attention has slipped past her, and sure, it’s landed on me. Just where I don’t want it.
“Miss Ryan,” he booms down the hallway. My face burns, but I try not to appear nervous. “Time has flown, and I’ve forgotten to ask. How is your grandmother?”
“È morta,” Bianca tells him flatly. It appears she is using their shared language to get close to him.
His whole face dissolves with sympathy. “No. I’m sorry to hear that. Are you all right?”
This is a grand opportunity. I reach into my pocket for his ten-dollar billwhile I walk toward them. “I am well enough, sir, thank you for asking. But I want to return this to you, and I apologize for being so slow about it. Sadly, by the time you gave me this, it was too late for Granny.”
Bianca’s eyes bulge at the sight of the big money.
“No, no,” he assures me. “It was a gift. Get yourself something pretty with it.”
Likely there are strings attached.
