Nico, ever the gentleman, jumped in. “Nonna, that’s hardly fair. Even the Van Ness girls sew.”
“They have a fashion line,” Mrs. Grimaldi retorted, dismissing him. “That’s hardly the level Arabella competes at.”
There was a rough laugh from behind the newspaper. I had the distinct urge to rip it out of the old man’s stubby fingers as I passed by to dump the dishes. The fact that I made it to the kitchen without an incident was a miracle.
Franky met my scowl with an arched brow.
“Don’t get me started,” I mumbled.
He snorted. “That bad, huh?”
Going to the fridge, I plucked the plastic baggie from where I’d hidden it behind the milk cartons. At least the pockets on the apron were deep enough to conceal the contraband. “You have no idea.”
“Wanna bet?” Franky called after me as I headed back into the dining room.
Arabella politely declined Uncle Theo’s tray. “I don’t care for dessert.”
After running into her in the dead of night, I couldn’t unsee things. She never took dessert. The wine was always limited, which made sense given her age, but now I wondered if that wasn’t part of the signora’s protocol. The tiny amounts Arabella ate certainly were.
“I’m at your disposal,” I told her.
Braving the old mistress’s scowl with a blistering smile, I waited as Arabella scooted from her seat and followed her from the room. The air in the hall became breathable again.
“Hurry, hurry!” I urged, falling into step beside her and racing up the stairs.
Once we were alone in her room, Arabella sagged against the door. “I hate them.”
With a laugh, I hopped onto her bed. “Here. This will make it better. You’re just hangry.”
Arabella squealed and lunged for the plastic bag of chicken strips and fries.
“Sorry they’re cold.” I lay back on the bed. My eyelids closed, and I could have fallen asleep.
“This is the best,” Arabella swallowed. “Thanks, Rae.”
“Don’t mention it,” I yawned.
Arabella munched happily while I began to doze off.
“Actually, I do have something I need your help with.” Her slight frame slid from the bed.
I muttered and rolled onto my side, resting my head on the crook of my arm. “I’m not cleaning your craft cave.”
“As if,” Arabella snorted.
She rummaged around in the closet, but I was too tired to care. My midnight visitor had been an hour late. He’d made up for it with two blinding orgasms, but now not even the delicious memory seemed worth the lost hours of slumber.
“What do you think?”
I groaned and cracked my eyelids open. Pale silver that glowed blue-white shimmered in front of me. I blinked. The material fluttered to the floor in a…skirt. In her other hand, Arabella held a top, with threads dangling from the piece.
“I was going to stitch them together,” she explained, the excitement vibrant in her voice. “But then I thought it might be cuter as a two-piece. Showing the belly is in right now, and with your figure, it would look dynamite!”
“It’s very pretty—” I stopped and the yawn cut off. “My figure?”
“Well, I certainly can’t wear something this big!” Arabella pressed the skirt to her hips and shifted back and forth as if dancing in place.
“Arabella,” I groaned. “That’s beautiful. It really is. But where the fuck am I going to wear something like that?”
