’Twas no surprise to me that he suspected Damien of skimming. I did, too. He never showed me a penny, but more than once he’d said he could slide money around like smoke. I suspected he was doing it even more now, partly for the baby, and partly because Mr. Carboni had needed more help of late. Seeing him on this list, I knew I had to tell him he’s in danger. I mustn’t keep it a secret any longer.
It felt quare, seeing my name there, spelled out plain as could be in Mr. Carboni’s ugly scrawl. He suspected something between Damien and me. What business was it of his if Damien and I were together? Mind, why should I pretend not to know the answer? Simple: Mr. Carboni had wanted me since the start. Sure, and I’d said no to him, so he got jealous of Damien. That was a very bad thing. There’s no telling what Mr. Carboni might do.
Then there’s Bianca, with the filthy wordentertainmentby her name. I near retched. My poor, foolish Bianca.
As much as I feared for Damien, Bianca, and myself, I’ll tell you, the most frightening was seeing “Solve: Evans” over mine.
It was crossed out.
I flipped back a few pages, leaning toward the window for better light, then I froze.
The door to the suite had opened, and the floor beneath me dropped like the elevator. Saints above, ’twas Mr. Carboni, clearing his throat. Surely the police couldn’t be done with him so quick. Seemed barely enough time for a cup of tea. I held my breath, listening close, but ’twas him no question. The floorboards creaked under those shiny shoes as he drew closer to the bedroom.
But I, fool that I was, was standing near a half mile from the nightstand, wasn’t I, with the lovely sunshine lighting up all the man’s secret notes. The book felt like a hot brick in my hands. Trouble was, I was standing too far from the nightstand to put it back where it belonged. So what did I do? God help me, I did the only thing that came to mind: I dropped the bloody thing down the front of my uniform and prayed it stayed hid.
“Rosie!” he exclaimed when he entered.
“Mr. Carboni!” I replied, making out like I was surprised. Faith, he’d no ideahowsurprised. Keeping one arm snug to the hidden book, I did all I could to not sound or look dodgy, which probably made me seem more suspicious, but I didn’t know what else to do.
“I’m sorry, sir. I thought this would be a good time to clean your room. I was just starting in here, then the washroom, then I will be out of your way. Or I could come back later. Whatever you’d prefer, sir.”
“Seems like perfect timing to me. How about I sit here while you clean? I like to watch you.”
Suddenly I was so hot and bothered I wouldn’t be surprised to see smoke come from my head. “Oh, no, Mr. Carboni. That wouldn’t be right. I—”
He blocked me when I stepped in the direction of the door, and I stopped short. All I could think was if he grabbed me and felt the outlineof the book on my body, he’d kill me for sure. From the dark twinkle in his eyes, I could tell he liked seeing me afraid, snake that he was. I knew the look from other men I’d known. Mr. Carboni was a bully and a bruiser. We both knew I was a lamb, not in a position to question or accuse him of anything. For now, I’d let him win, but only as far as I allowed. I needed to get out of here in one piece, sure, and with the book still in place.
He made a deal about walking to the window, then sinking into the navy blue armchair. “I’ll sit here,” he declared, crossing one leg over the other like he’d not a worry in his head. And I suppose he didn’t. “Just forget I’m here.”
Christ above, I hated him watching me make his bed, like I was a show. Or a puppet, maybe. I moved slow as a saint, frightened to death he’d notice the book bumping around inside my dress. I hoped my belt was cinched tightly enough. Imagine if the book slipped out and dropped to the floor. The game would be well and truly over if it did.
“You do a real nice job with the bed, Rosie,” he said, his voice low.
I fluffed the pillows and moved quick to dusting, holding my hands stiff so they’d not shake.
“I got a question for you,” he said, but I didn’t look at him. I was nothing more than a busy, busy chambermaid, working hard, hearing nothing, knowing nothing, and going nowhere near the now-empty nightstand.
“You know a fella named Walsh?”
A blade of fear cut through my body like an electric shock. What was I supposed to say? “I do, sir. He’s a waiter here.”
He chuckled. “Must be plenty of Walshes around here, with all you Irish. Interesting you know which one I’m talking about.”
He was worlds too smart for me. And far too dangerous. The air felt thick. I needed to get out.
“I suppose so, sir. Excuse me,” I said, attempting to dust the table beside him.
I cried out when he grabbed my wrist, then I hugged my other arm to my body, securing the book.
“What’s this Walsh to you, Rosie? What are you doing with a scoundrel like him? I could give you all you ever wanted. He’ll only get you pregnant.”
Sweet mercy, I thought I’d die on the spot. Mr. Carboni’s big hand wrapped clean round my wrist, tight as a smithy’s vice.
“Mr. Carboni, sir, Damien and me, we’re engaged.”
His face darkened. “Engaged? I’m disappointed in you, Rosie.”
“Mr. Carboni, I… Please.” I tried to twist out of his grasp, but he held on a moment longer before reluctantly letting me go.
