Seduced by Sunday
Page 30
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“She went easy on you.”
Meg tucked the note away, determined to keep it, and noticed another envelope beside the other two. Her name adorned the envelope with no return address. She wondered if maybe Val had sent her two notes.
Gabi asked her brother about one of their guests and Meg opened the letter.
Only it wasn’t a letter.
It was from the night before . . . a picture.
A picture of her in Val’s arms, their intimate embrace leaving little to the imagination of anyone who came upon it. “What the hell?”
“What is it?”
“Is this a joke?” Because if it was, she wasn’t laughing.
Val took the folded picture away and grew rigid.
“Oh, my.” Gabi’s eyes were wide as saucers.
“Where did you get this?” Val asked, his tone accusing, his eyes dark.
“You tell me. It came in my morning mail.”
“That’s the two of you.” Gabi stated the obvious.
“You’re just now showing me this?” Val asked.
“I didn’t open it until now . . . and why are you talking to me in an accusing tone? I didn’t take the picture, Masini . . . I was a little busy at that moment in time.”
“No one is accusing you of anything,” Gabi told her. “But who . . . and why?”
“Who delivered this?”
“The same guy who brought me your note.”
Val said something under his breath in Italian. If Meg could guess, she’d say he was cussing. “This goes nowhere outside of this room,” Val hissed.
“I thought you didn’t allow cameras on the island? How did this happen?”
“I don’t.”
“This doesn’t look like it was taken from outer space.” It looked like it was shot from inside the restaurant with a high-powered lens.
“Someone is taunting me,” Val muttered.
“Taunting you? There are two of us in that shot.”
“How did this happen, Val?” Gabi asked. “Why would anyone care if you were kissing . . .” Gabi’s words dripped to nothing, her face grew red.
Val’s eyes narrowed on Meg. “Maybe it has nothing to do with me.”
Meg tapped her chest. “I’m not the celebrity. That would be Michael.” Oh, wait . . . if someone was on the island with a camera . . . “Oh, no!” She spun on her heel, prepared to run to her villa.
Val took her arm, spun her toward the front of his house. “I’ll drive.”
They fled to the golf cart, sped out of his drive. Her heart was pumping. What if she was too late? What if Ryder and Michael had already been caught on camera?
She forced a few deep breaths, tried to ward off her lungs closing up.
Chapter Eleven
Val took the corners too fast, slung his arm over Meg’s body to keep her from toppling out of the golf cart on the last one. She ran from the cart, stopped at the door. “Wait here.”
“Cara.”
“Wait.” She took a deep breath and walked into the villa calling Michael’s name. Seconds later, she emerged and waved him inside. “They’re not here.”
Val stepped inside, took in the space, and reached for his cell phone.
“Yes, Mr. Masini?” Carol answered on the second ring.
“Miss Rosenthal is looking for Mr. Wolfe. Has he left the island?”
“No, sir. I will make a few calls and call you back with his location.”
He disconnected the call. “We’ll know where he is in a moment.”
She ran a hand through her hair and started to pace the room. “This is bad, Val. Really freaking bad.”
“Calm down, Margaret.” He could hear a soft wheeze in her lungs and wondered if her medicine was close by.
“Don’t tell me to calm down. This shit isn’t supposed to go down on this island. Key West was more silent than here.” She kept talking, pacing. “I knew this was too good to be true.”
“You know, cara, kissing me isn’t a sin.” Unless . . . unless he failed to learn about someone. “Wait . . . is there someone—”
“Oh, good God, no. Are your background checks that limited that you couldn’t find a jealous lover?”
“I respect my guests’ privacy.” He paused and tilted his head. “Wait, how is it your background checks are so thorough?”
She opened her mouth, then closed it promptly.
“Cara?”
“Why are you calling me that? What does it mean anyway?”
“Dear, darling.” Seemed fitting since she didn’t give him leave to use her desired name.
She grunted, just like his mother. “And you didn’t answer my question.”
“I’m not going to answer your question. I don’t know you well enough.”
“I’ve tasted your molars and you don’t know me well enough?”
He wanted to laugh but found the statement unsettling.
“Once. One kiss, Masini. You don’t know me, and I don’t know you.” She looked toward the clock on the wall. “Where the hell are you, Michael?”
She ran a hand over her chest and Val stepped closer. “Please, cara. I don’t think Michael would want you this worried, worried to the point of not breathing.”
Some of the heat in her eyes melted. “We need to find him, Val. Find them both before more pictures can be taken.”
Val thought he was starting to see the problem, but didn’t dare ask her. If his speculation was correct, this is really freaking bad wasn’t a strong enough statement.
Meg tucked the note away, determined to keep it, and noticed another envelope beside the other two. Her name adorned the envelope with no return address. She wondered if maybe Val had sent her two notes.
Gabi asked her brother about one of their guests and Meg opened the letter.
Only it wasn’t a letter.
It was from the night before . . . a picture.
A picture of her in Val’s arms, their intimate embrace leaving little to the imagination of anyone who came upon it. “What the hell?”
“What is it?”
“Is this a joke?” Because if it was, she wasn’t laughing.
Val took the folded picture away and grew rigid.
“Oh, my.” Gabi’s eyes were wide as saucers.
“Where did you get this?” Val asked, his tone accusing, his eyes dark.
“You tell me. It came in my morning mail.”
“That’s the two of you.” Gabi stated the obvious.
“You’re just now showing me this?” Val asked.
“I didn’t open it until now . . . and why are you talking to me in an accusing tone? I didn’t take the picture, Masini . . . I was a little busy at that moment in time.”
“No one is accusing you of anything,” Gabi told her. “But who . . . and why?”
“Who delivered this?”
“The same guy who brought me your note.”
Val said something under his breath in Italian. If Meg could guess, she’d say he was cussing. “This goes nowhere outside of this room,” Val hissed.
“I thought you didn’t allow cameras on the island? How did this happen?”
“I don’t.”
“This doesn’t look like it was taken from outer space.” It looked like it was shot from inside the restaurant with a high-powered lens.
“Someone is taunting me,” Val muttered.
“Taunting you? There are two of us in that shot.”
“How did this happen, Val?” Gabi asked. “Why would anyone care if you were kissing . . .” Gabi’s words dripped to nothing, her face grew red.
Val’s eyes narrowed on Meg. “Maybe it has nothing to do with me.”
Meg tapped her chest. “I’m not the celebrity. That would be Michael.” Oh, wait . . . if someone was on the island with a camera . . . “Oh, no!” She spun on her heel, prepared to run to her villa.
Val took her arm, spun her toward the front of his house. “I’ll drive.”
They fled to the golf cart, sped out of his drive. Her heart was pumping. What if she was too late? What if Ryder and Michael had already been caught on camera?
She forced a few deep breaths, tried to ward off her lungs closing up.
Chapter Eleven
Val took the corners too fast, slung his arm over Meg’s body to keep her from toppling out of the golf cart on the last one. She ran from the cart, stopped at the door. “Wait here.”
“Cara.”
“Wait.” She took a deep breath and walked into the villa calling Michael’s name. Seconds later, she emerged and waved him inside. “They’re not here.”
Val stepped inside, took in the space, and reached for his cell phone.
“Yes, Mr. Masini?” Carol answered on the second ring.
“Miss Rosenthal is looking for Mr. Wolfe. Has he left the island?”
“No, sir. I will make a few calls and call you back with his location.”
He disconnected the call. “We’ll know where he is in a moment.”
She ran a hand through her hair and started to pace the room. “This is bad, Val. Really freaking bad.”
“Calm down, Margaret.” He could hear a soft wheeze in her lungs and wondered if her medicine was close by.
“Don’t tell me to calm down. This shit isn’t supposed to go down on this island. Key West was more silent than here.” She kept talking, pacing. “I knew this was too good to be true.”
“You know, cara, kissing me isn’t a sin.” Unless . . . unless he failed to learn about someone. “Wait . . . is there someone—”
“Oh, good God, no. Are your background checks that limited that you couldn’t find a jealous lover?”
“I respect my guests’ privacy.” He paused and tilted his head. “Wait, how is it your background checks are so thorough?”
She opened her mouth, then closed it promptly.
“Cara?”
“Why are you calling me that? What does it mean anyway?”
“Dear, darling.” Seemed fitting since she didn’t give him leave to use her desired name.
She grunted, just like his mother. “And you didn’t answer my question.”
“I’m not going to answer your question. I don’t know you well enough.”
“I’ve tasted your molars and you don’t know me well enough?”
He wanted to laugh but found the statement unsettling.
“Once. One kiss, Masini. You don’t know me, and I don’t know you.” She looked toward the clock on the wall. “Where the hell are you, Michael?”
She ran a hand over her chest and Val stepped closer. “Please, cara. I don’t think Michael would want you this worried, worried to the point of not breathing.”
Some of the heat in her eyes melted. “We need to find him, Val. Find them both before more pictures can be taken.”
Val thought he was starting to see the problem, but didn’t dare ask her. If his speculation was correct, this is really freaking bad wasn’t a strong enough statement.
