I wanted to rip the white cotton from her fingertips. With my teeth. Before I spent the next several hours studying the ink that marked her skin.
She’s stunning.
My little thief, hiding right under my nose.
To think, if I hadn’t stopped to chat with Angelo, I might not have discovered her. I’d been on my way to Luna Luce, needing some space after the tiresome family dinner, when AJ slipped into the conversation that one of the maids—the newest one—had a 1969 Yenko Camaro. I had to see it.
And then…the mystery solved itself.
My little thief was the owner.
That was the only reason I found myself telling my grandmother that I would stay for supper, much to her delight. Business could wait. There wasn’t anything as pressing as sitting here, watching this woman who’d hidden in plain sight.
Rae disappeared and returned with a silver pitcher to top off the water glasses. While she filled Arabella’s, I stole a moment to chug my own. From across the table, one dark brow arched slightly as I set my crystal glass down. Empty and waiting. Her lips twitched, but she took her sweet time coming around to my side.
Gone was the artfully applied makeup. Her ears were missing the rough sparkle of metal. The wild mess of hair was imprisoned on the top of her head, cagedby that ridiculous white cap that my grandmother thought was the only thing appropriate for staff to wear.
Leaning over to pour the water, her scent whispered over me. Some vibrant flower mixed with coconut. Heady and decadent. I inched my thigh over to rub against hers. The slight pressure was an instant hit of pleasure.
Rae jerked back. Water splashed from the pitcher.
On the other end of the room, the butler hissed.
I shot him a dark look.
Her uncle had seemed ancient when I was a child, and he was still here, unaged and old. I didn’t fear him. Something he knew. His eyes narrowed. I lifted my napkin and blotted the water.
“No harm,” I murmured.
Rae huffed. Huffed!
The annoyed sound was an instant shot to my groin. I realized Ilikedgetting under her skin. I studied her while seemingly invested in the chicken and braised vegetable medley.
“Zacharia Carraway is hosting a party Thursday night,” my grandmother droned. “It’s his daughter’s nineteenth birthday. You have your dress ordered?”
Arabella hummed politely. “I’ll pick it up on Wednesday.”
“I hope they don’t need to take out the waistline,” Nonna tsked. “You’ve not been careful with your weight, Arabella.”
I frowned, but the don’s ward dropped her gaze.
“I’ve been careful, godmother.”
I stabbed a Brussel sprout with more force than necessary. It wasn’t unusual that my bird-thin grandmother made comments. Once upon a time, to my mother of all people. But hearing them now was a brutal shock.
How dare she.
“You have a new suit, caro?” My grandmother turned to me.
“I wasn’t invited.” I flicked a carrot to the side, forcing it to join the pile of burnt orange.
“What? You’re not coming!”
I should not have stayed for supper.“Nonna, I’m very busy. There are a lot of things I need to catch up on—”
“He’ll be there,” my grandfather said from behind the black andwhite sheet.
I glared at the newspaper. “With all due respect—”
