“Sleep,piccolina.You can tell me later.”
“It’s important.”
“Nothing is more important than my little girl getting the rest she needs.”
Too wrung out to argue, she nodded and obediently closed her eyes.
She woke on her own an hour later, feeling rested but no less guilty than she had when Emilio had tucked her into bed. After tugging on the short, fluffy robe he’d left out for her, she made her way to the bathroom. No sooner had she finished than a brisk knock sounded at the bedroom door.
She opened the door to find one of the maids on the other side, holding a long white garment bag. “Good morning, Miss Vitali. Mr. Rinaldi asked me to help you get dressed for the ceremony.”
“Thank you.” Stepping aside, she allowed the maid to enter. “Martha, isn’t it? I saw you in the kitchen yesterday.”
“Yes, miss. How are you getting along here?”
At Martha’s signal, Amara perched on the chair in front of a large white vanity. “All right, I suppose.”If you ignore all the pink and ruffles.Though truth be told, she didn’t mind the ruffles so much anymore. It was mostly the pink that still got under her skin.
“All right?” Martha’s reflection raised an eyebrow as she pulled at Amara’s short locks. “That doesn’t sound like a woman about to marry the love of her life.”
“I do love Emilio. I think I have my entire life,” she added softly. “But I have some... unfinished business, and he isn’t listening to me.”
“And you’re surprised by this?” Snorting out a laugh, Martha shook her head. “You grew up around these men, dear. They don’t listen because they think they know everything already.”
“That’s very true.” Sensing an ally, the beginnings of a plan started to take shape in her mind. “I just need an hour and I could wrap up some loose ends. I’d prefer to go into this marriage without any needless baggage, you know?”
“We all come with baggage.” Martha’s reflection frowned slightly. “But if you can make it a little lighter, you should be allowed that chance.”
Meeting the woman’s eyes in the mirror, Amara smiled. “Then I just need one teensy little favor.”
* * *
Twenty minutes later, Amara was creeping down the hall dressed in the demure black and white maid’s outfit she’d borrowed from Martha. The maid, bless her, was currently tied to a chair with a strip of fabric shoved in her mouth. She hadn’t been crazy about the idea, but Amara had insisted they make it look like she’d been overpowered to avoid any repercussions for her new friend.
Now all she had to do was make it down the stairs, to the kitchen, and out the service entrance without any of the guards recognizing her. She was banking on them not looking past the uniform. As long as she didn’t run into Benny or Emilio, her odds of success seemed relatively high.
Her stomach pitched sharply at the sound of someone coming up the stairs. There was no doubt Emilio was going to tear the skin off her ass when he discovered her deception, but if she was caught now, the punishment she received would be completely in vain. At least if she finished her mission, it would be well worth the price.
Her mission, of course, being to sneak out and take a cab to Uncle Gio’s house and confront him with Emilio’s accusations. There was still a part of her holding out hope that Emilio was somehow mistaken, and all of this could be cleared up with a calm, rational discussion.
And if Emilio was right, well, she wanted Uncle Gio to look her in the eye and tell her why before she used one of the dozens of guns he had stashed around the house to put a bullet between his eyes.
The figure on the stairs came into view and Amara breathed a sigh of relief. Another maid come to clean the guest bedrooms, judging by the direction she headed when she reached the top of the stairs.
When the other maid disappeared, Amara slipped from the shadows and hurried down the stairs. There were two guards in the foyer, but they were both looking out the front windows. Quiet as a mouse, Amara strode across the marble entryway to the kitchen, then through the kitchen to the small room where the servants stored their belongings during the day. Using the combination Martha had given her, she opened a locker and retrieved the small black purse from the interior.
“Hey! That’s Martha’s locker!” Another maid—Jesus, how many servants did one house need?—stood barely a foot away, hands on her hips, glaring at Amara.
A dozen options ran through her mind as Amara assessed the situation. Talking her way out of this would take too long, and she ran the risk of the maid running and telling Emilio. The idea of knocking her out made Amara’s stomach hurt. When her gaze landed on a small closet just behind the maid, she offered the petite blonde an apologetic smile.
“I’m really very sorry about this.” Calling on her years of training, Amara grabbed the girl and yanked open the closet. She shoved the wide-eyed maid inside and slammed the door shut, then tucked a chair up under the handle so it couldn’t open.
“If it makes you feel any better, I’ll definitely pay for this when I get back. I’m really sorry, though!”
With her witness properly stashed, Amara made a dash for the side door. The guard there paid no mind to the maid with her head down rushing down the driveway. He probably assumed she was simply off the clock and in a hurry to be home.
The cab she’d called for was waiting for her at the end of the block. She slipped into the backseat and just like that, they were off.
In what seemed like no time at all, the cab parked in front of the house she’d called home her entire life. Suddenly struck by the enormity of what she was about to do, Amara sat frozen in the backseat.