For the first time in as long as I could remember, my mother seemed flustered. She pressed her hand to her chest and bowed her head. “I only meant to spare you pain.”
Before I could respond, the lights dimmed. Gabe half-sat on a stool, his acoustic guitar settled onto one thigh. Zach stood at the microphone, glancing around. The band behind them quieted and a single spotlight centered on the teen.
“For those of you who don’t know me, my name’s Zachary Marchionni. A year ago, my parents died in a car accident. My little sister and I would like to dedicate this performance to them.”
Zach moved to the stool beside Gabe and the spotlight widened to include a larger portion of the stage. Gabe and Zach began to play the first few notes. The wall behind the stage lit with family photos of Rebecca, Joe, and the kids.
Each image struck me like a throat punch. I couldn’t look. Instead, I focused on my guys.
The crowd gasped when Chloe took the stage. She wore a soft pink tutu, trimmed in deeper shades of pinks and purples. Two fluffy wings rested on her back.
Gabe strummed the rhythm and Zach played melody. It was gorgeous, but I almost fainted when Gabe leaned closer to the microphone and sang Clapton’s, “Tears from Heaven.”
Chloe completed several pique’ turns, glided across the stage, and dipped into a plié without missing a step. Her performance was fluid and graceful, even when she spun in a series of slow pirouettes. I’d never been so proud of her, but I would have loved it if she’d stomped across the stage doing the chicken dance.
I didn’t as much as blink, until all three took their bows and made their exits.
Evelyn and Nadine both blotted their eyes with tissues. Even Papa Joe looked misty-eyed. I swallowed the lump in my throat and fought to hold back tears of my own.
The guests cheered until the trio returned to the stage and took another bow. Then Chloe ran down the stairs and straight into my arms—which was when I lost my battle and choked out a sob.
“Did you see me? Did you like it?” Chloe grinned, her cheeks red from dancing.
“You did great. I loved it.”
Zach dragged the toe of his shoe across the ground. His cheeks were red too, but not from physical activity.
I drew him into a quick hug. “You’re getting really good. I’m so proud of you.”
He grinned and shrugged. “Gabe’s been helping me.”
Zach surprised everyone when he offered his hand to his sister. “Would you care to dance?”
Chloe squealed and pulled him to the dance floor.
I watched them for a moment, but I needed to find Gabe and bury myself in his arms.
Papa Joe stood. “Would you dance with an old man?”
“I’d love to.” I finished my champagne in one gulp and set the glass aside.
He set his hand on the small of my back and led me to the dance floor. The gesture reminded me of Gabe. He had to see me at the table. He must be avoiding me.
Papa Joe took my hand, placed his other on my hip, and led me in a slow waltz across the dance floor. His cancer hadn’t stolen his charisma. He had an old-world grace that reminded me of classic movies and gentler times, although few would call Giuseppe Marchionni Sr. gentle. The contrast between the family man and the business tycoon confused me. Is Gabe the same?
“How are my grandchildren?” He smiled behind his simple mask.
“They’re great. Growing up too fast and keeping me on my toes, but I wouldn’t change a thing.”
“I want you to know that I think you’re doing a terrific job raising them. You’re good for my son, too.”
“Thank you.”
A shadow passed over his expression. “I read the article you wrote.”
Blood roared in my ears. “Mr. Marchionni…Joe… You have to know I—”
“It’s given me a lot to consider.” He spun me in a circle and drew me closer. “But I trust there will be no more stories about the family?”
A little lightheaded, I held tighter to keep myself upright. “No. As a matter of fact, I finished my novel. I’m expecting an advance from the publisher within a week or two.”
“That’s wonderful news. Another female spy thriller?”
How did he know what I wrote? “Yes, with the same heroine.”
Papa Joe chuckled. “You seem surprised I read your books.”
“I just never pictured you as my demographic.”
“I’m more than the business, Maggie.” He lowered his voice. “The greatest gift you can give Gabe is to always remind him he’s a father, a husband, and a man—not simply a title and a job.”
I nodded. Between the sentiment and the champagne, I didn’t trust my voice.
Something behind me caught his attention, and he stopped dancing.
“May I cut in?” Gabe brushed his hand over my bare shoulder.
The sound of his voice caused flutters in my belly and my hands to tremble. I turned and smiled through the blur of unshed tears.
“Of course. Thank you for the dance, my dear.” Joe leaned forward and kissed my cheek before turning me over to his son.
Without a word, Gabe slid his hand into mine and spun me in a slow circle. The sight of him threatened to buckle my knees. His red leather mask had thin black brows painted over its slanted eyes. Between the mask and his pointy goatee, he looked like one heck of a sexy devil.
“Stop staring at me like that.” His lips curled into an evil grin that intensified the effect of the mask.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re thinking about my tongue between your thighs.”
Emboldened by his comment, I whispered, “How’d you know?”
“Because I know you.” He chuckled and dipped me backward.
Once upright again, I pressed my cheek to his shoulder. “I wish we could rewind and start over.”
“I don’t. Every moment good and bad brought us to where we are right now.” He drew me tighter and swayed to the music. “But I’ve missed you.”
I pulled back to look into his eyes. “Gabe, I…”
He placed his finger on my lips and smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m sorry I walked out on you after dinner. I needed to think. I’ve pushed too hard for this marriage. You’re right. It’s too fast. I’ll back off.”
My throat tightened. “Are you moving out?”
“Is that what you want?” He stopped dancing.
“No. That’s the last thing I want.”
He pulled me close and kissed the top of my head.
“Gabe, I don’t want—” I missed a step and swayed against him. My vision blurred and this time it had nothing to do with my feelings for him. “Can we sit? I’m feeling ill.”
Gabe tucked me against his side and led me from the dance floor.
The room began to spin, and I slumped against him. “Something’s wrong.”
He bent down and lifted me into his arms. “When did you eat last?”
Did I eat today? I couldn’t remember, in fact I couldn’t hold onto a thought long enough for anything to make sense. My limbs grew heavier by the moment, as if my bones had disintegrated into Jell-O.
Gabe set me on one of Evelyn’s oversized loveseats and untied my mask. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
I started to stand, but he put his hand on my shoulder.
“Maggie, I mean it. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
34
Gabe
Caterers and wait staff crowded the kitchen, making it difficult for anyone not on the payroll to enter the room. I surveyed the trays of food waiting to be served, looking for something with protein and not too rich. Dinner selections consisted of jambalaya, shrimp creole, greens swimming in bacon, Étouffée, and other traditional Cajun dishes. Nothing I could feed Maggie in her condition.
Jessie pushed her way toward me. “Is Maggie all right? I saw you carry her inside.”
“She didn’t eat much today and with the champagne, she’s dizzy.” I snat
ched a dinner roll from a tray and opened the drawer.
“Gabe,” Jessie shouted.
“What?” I turned with the roll in one hand and the knife in the other.
“Did you do something stupid again? She seemed fine until she talked to you.”
“How can I cause her to be dizzy?” I stuffed a piece of cheese into the roll and pushed my way out of the kitchen.
Jessie followed. “Stop for a second, will you?”
“I need to get this to Mags.”
She grabbed my arm. “Have you seen Chantal DuBois lately?”
I jerked free. “No, why?”
“There’s a woman who keeps showing up at the bar when Maggie’s working.”
“What woman? Jess, I don’t have time for this right now.”
“I think it’s Chantal. Her hair’s blonde and she’s chubbier…”
“I haven’t heard from her in weeks. She didn’t even show up for our court date.” I headed toward the parlor.
Maggie’s mask sat on the loveseat where I’d left it, but she’d vanished. My first thought was the powder room. I knocked. When no one answered, I opened the door. Empty.
I pulled my cell from my pocket and dialed Maggie. No answer, but her ringtone played nearby. I hit redial and followed the ringing to her purse under the loveseat.
I tore the mask from my face and called Enzo. “Hey, have you seen Maggie?”
“Yeah, man she’s looking smoking hot tonight. I’m busy. Can this wait?”
“Enzo, listen. She isn’t feeling well. She’s not where I left her, but her purse is here.”
“Hang on.” Mumbling came over the line as if he’d covered the phone with his hand. “I’m with Shanna. She said Maggie was fine earlier today. We’ll help search for her.”
I strode back toward the kitchen in hopes of finding Jessie. I caught a glimpse of her bright red gown outside, but lost sight of her by the time I made it to the door. Why do women keep disappearing on me tonight?
My mother came out of nowhere and set her hand on my arm. “Is everything okay?”
“Have you seen Maggie?”
“Not since you carried her inside. What’s going on?”
I ran my hands over my head. “She isn’t feeling well. I need to find her, Ma. Something’s wrong.”
She pursed her lips. “Did you pick a fight?”
“No, I did not pick a fight.”
“She probably rejoined the party. Relax, she’ll turn up when your father announces the engagement.”
“There’s no engagement. I called it off. She needs more time before we force her down the aisle.”
“Nonsense.” Evelyn handed me an envelope. “She’s a little naïve, but she loves you. If you don’t believe me, read the article she wrote about you.”
I shoved it in my jacket pocket and walked away before I said something I’d regret. I spotted my father in the center of a semicircle of young women. “Sorry to steal him away, but I need a quick word.”
Papa Joe flashed the women an award-winning smile and turned to me. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t find Maggie, and Ma told me you’re planning to announce our engagement?”
Joe laughed and slapped me on the back. “She’ll turn up when I call her name.”
I lowered my voice. “There is no engagement. I need to find her.”
“She was wearing your ring earlier. What did you do?”
She was? “Nothing. Why does everyone in this family think I did something to Maggie?” I sighed, scanning the crowd. “She’s ill. End of story.”
Joe opened his mouth, closed it, and shook his head. Before he could say anything else, I walked away.
Shanna stopped me on the way back to the house. “Have you found her?”
“No.” I noted her swollen lips and wrinkled gown. Fucking Enzo. “Careful with my brother. He’s… It’s complicated with him.”
Chloe ran to me and hugged my leg, her smile fading when she saw my expression. “What’s wrong?”
I brushed my hand over her cheek. “Sweetheart, have you seen Aunt Maggie?”
“Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have your attention.” Papa Joe’s voice rang out over the crowd.
Me and everyone else turned our attention toward the stage.
“It seems my son has lost his fiancé. Mary Margaret Guthrie, would you please return to the parlor to claim him?” Joe chuckled and the crowd joined in.
Holding my breath, I scanned the crowd for any movement toward the main house.
After a few moments, my father made the same announcement, but Maggie still didn’t materialize.
Shanna tugged on my jacket. “Did you two have another argument?”
“No. I left her for five minutes to get her something to eat. When I returned she was gone.” I lifted Maggie’s silver purse in front of Shanna’s face. “She left this behind.”
“Maybe she went home,” Shanna mumbled.
I nodded, though I doubted Maggie would have left without her purse or without telling anyone. With each passing moment my gut clenched tighter. Coupled with the frustration burning a hole through my chest, I felt as if I’d would come out of my skin if I didn’t find her.
I held my phone to my ear and forced myself to loosen my grip before I cracked the case. “Hildie, this is Gabe. Is Maggie there?”
“No, she isn’t. Is everything all right.”
Frowning at Shanna, I shook my head. “Call me the moment she comes home.”
An hour later, we’d searched the entire house and called the police. The party guests began to leave when the squad cars arrived.
Detective Wayne O’Malley had been at the party when Maggie went missing. He pulled me into an empty guest room and closed the door behind him. “Did the two of you have an argument?”
“No.” I folded my arms across my chest, rather defensive after answering the same question so many times in one night.
“Look, I’m trying to help.”
“We were dancing, and she said she felt faint. I brought her inside and went to get her some food. When I came back, she was gone.” I sank into a chair. From the moment she went missing, I’d been hit with questions like machine gun fire.
“And you found her purse near where you left her?”
“I called her cell and heard it ringing.” I ran my hand through my hair again. At this rate, I’d be bald by morning.
“I sent an unmarked car to her house in case she turns up.”
“I checked in with the sitter a while ago. She wasn’t there. How could she disappear?” I stared at Wayne, trying to decide if I wanted to punch the man in the face or cry on his shoulder.
“What about security cameras?”
“My folks…don’t usually bother with them during events like this. Too many people in and out…” I stumbled over my words. It’s not like I could tell a detective my father turned them off to provide the less savory guests privacy.
“Is there anyone you can think of who would want to harm her?” Wayne maintained a professional tone, though his eyes gave away his concern.
“Jessie said something about my daughter’s mother hanging around Maggie at the bar.” I balled my hands into fists. I promised her I’d protect her. If anyone hurt her, I’d make them pay.
“What’s her name and address? Do you have a current picture?” Wayne pulled out his phone.
“No photo. She’s about five-eight, long dark hair, though the woman Jess saw is blonde. If it’s even the same woman. Last I heard from Chantal she’d left town.”
“Name?”
“Chantal DuBois. 921 Dauphine, Apartment A. She works for one of the cruise lines. I haven’t seen her in almost three months, since she dropped my daughter off on my doorstep.”
Wayne winced and typed into his phone. “Anything else?”
“She’s been trying to extort money from me since she got the paternity results.”
“Child support?”
“No, she doesn’t want the b
aby. She wants money.”
He glanced at me as if he had something to say but shook his head and rubbed his jaw.
“Chantal was married to one of my brother Joe’s business associates. The deal went south, and the guy offed himself.”
“Martin Sinclair?” Wayne’s eyes widened a fraction.
“That’s the one.”
35
Maggie
“Maggie, are you okay?”
The jackhammer in my head caused the softly spoken words to sound as if broadcasted through a concert sized speaker. I tried to sit up, but the room began to spin.
“Oh, my goodness. Here, let me get you home. My car’s right out front.” Denise Trudeau forced me upright.
Who invited her of all people? I shook my head and the slight motion caused my stomach to lurch.
Someone lifted me to my feet and another person pressed against my side. A man, Gabe? No too short and bald. Justin?
Voices whispering, then talking, reassuring that they would take me home. They said I’d had too much to drink. Passed out. It felt as if half of the world moved as fast as a carnival ride, while the other oozed in slow motion.
I had the sensation of movement.
This isn’t right. Foggy and confused, I tried to sort out what happened. “Put me down. Where’s Gabe?”
Something smashed against the back of my head. It took a moment for my brain to register pain before everything went black.
Gabe
“They left in a dark colored sedan, Toyota, I think.” The young valet looked between Wayne, me, and the gathering of uniformed police officers.
“Is this the woman who was passed out?” Wayne held Shanna’s cell phone to the guy’s face, a picture of Maggie in her gown on the screen.
“Definitely. I remember the dress. I thought she looked like a Valkyrie or something.”
“You let these people put an unconscious woman into a car?” My anger and fear narrowed to a single point, the valet.
“They said she had too much to drink,” he murmured.
Wayne took a moment to scroll through the pictures on Shanna’s phone and showed the valet a photo with Chantal in the background. “Is this the woman who took her?”
Absinthe Minded: A Mafia Romantic Comedy (Bourbon Street Bad Boys' Club Book 1) Page 22