Groaning, I pulled a professional smile on my face and left the bathroom. “I’m finished in here, Miss.”
Sliding her light jacket off her arms, Arabella lit up when she saw me. “Rae! Hi, how are you feeling?”
I avoided looking over her shoulder at where the chauffeur was settling two handfuls of bags on the threshold.
“I’m doin’ alright, Miss.” There was no telling what she’d heard about my sudden disappearance last night. Frankly, I was surprised she noticed at all.
“Can you help her unload these?” AJ asked from the hall. He wasn’t allowed in the little princess’s inner sanctum.
I swallowed the curse. There was one more bedroom up here to clean, and I was actually looking forward to it. Not because I wanted to spend my morning wiping and vacuuming down the spaces of these people who only partied and shopped, but because it was the first time I was on rotation for the upstairs. Maddie had been downright gleeful when she said I had to add that to my list this morning. Courtesy of the housekeeper, I was being dumped with the other maid’s work.
“Sure thing,” I croaked. Aj nodded and left.
“Oh, she doesn’t have to,” Arabella objected sweetly, but the chauffeur was already gone. “I can unpack all this stuff.”
“I don’t mind,” I sighed. “Then I can take the bags down to the trash.”
Arabella shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t, um, throw out the bags.”
I scooped up a pile of crap and deposited it on the bed. Some of these were heavy. What treasures could they possibly hide? The pretty princess might not even notice something missing….
I stopped myself from looking inside the bags.
“What do you do with them?” I asked, returning for another bunch.
Arabella stepped beside me and plucked the remainder. “I…repurpose some.”
I rubbed the edge of a paper parcel that was made from really nice material. The shop’s logo was foiled in gold on the side. The ribbons were satin and soft. It was a far cry from the cheap brown sacks that the supermarkets used.
“Well, I guess I could show you.” Arabella fidgeted as she moved across her bedroom.
I was about to tell her that I didn’t need to know—a nicer way to say I didn’t care—but when she produced a key to the locked closet, I stifled the objection. I’d already snooped in her closet, disgusted by how many outfits hung in pristine rows. The walk-in had an island that I wiped the locked glass top. And the rows of shoes probably cost as much as my Camaro.
But the second door adjacent to the closet had made me curious.
Hurrying over, I caught sight of the mess as she shoved open the door and flicked on the lights. While every room in this opulent mansion was catalog ready should a photography stop by, this was the first place that looked ‘lived in’. One wall was floor-to-ceiling bins. Confetti chunks littered the floor. Scissors lay haphazardly in the midst along with a mortar and pestle, and empty bottles for tinctures. A rolling desk with a sewing machine was pushed to the side, and another wall held a worktable that folded up when not in use.
Which was probably never.
“You have a craft cave,” I said in a hushed tone.
“Grazie mille,” Arabella laughed. “Signora Grimaldi calls it my junk room.”
“This is…” I stepped inside, pulling out the first slid drawer and seeing buttons of all shapes and sizes. “Awesome.”
“Do you like crafts? Or have a hobby?” Arabella asked eagerly.
I shook my head. “Well, kinda. I used to restore vintage cars.”
When I wasn’t changing tires or oil to pay rent.
“That’s so cool!” She leaned against the doorframe. “I wanted to get into woodworking and welding, but Mama put her foot down.”
“Why?” I thumbed through a stack of loose scrapbooking sheets.
Arabella shrugged. “She thought I would burn myself. I’m clumsy.”
She held up her arm and a faded, angry red mark marred the perfectly smooth, deep golden skin.
