Seduced by Sunday

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Seduced by Sunday Page 10

by Catherine Bybee


  Meg thought of the mail from Judy and couldn’t remember if Alonzo’s name was used. Since the letter was lying in her purse, Meg jumped to take her purse from Gabi’s hands. “I’ll take that.”

  Gabi handed it over, and reached back for the papers that fell out.

  Meg didn’t need to worry, Gabi didn’t look at the mail before she swept the table free of everything and started to gather dishes.

  Mrs. Masini looked five years younger after her nap. It helped that she didn’t wear flour quite like Meg. Val poured wine and Gabi dished up the meal.

  Before they forked one spoonful, Val lifted his glass. “To new friends.”

  Mrs. Masini lifted her glass. “To new cooks.”

  Gabi joined them. “To the perfect con to obtain stage time with Jim Lewis.”

  Meg laughed and added her own toast. “To surviving my cooking.”

  With the taste of wine on her lips, she met Val’s gaze as he took his first bite.

  “Oh, cara. Perfect.”

  “Better than my first attempt,” Gabi said, taking a second bite.

  “Really?” Meg lifted her fork, took her first bite. “Mmm.” It wasn’t bad. In fact, it was pretty damn good.

  “Of course it’s perfect. I’m a good teacher, no?”

  “The best, Mama.”

  They talked of food, their first attempts at cooking before either of the Masini children got it right. They laughed when Meg described her flour volcano taking on a resemblance to Mount St. Helens.

  And they ate.

  Meg couldn’t remember a better meal. A bit of pride wound inside her head as everyone finished their plates, Val taking on a second helping.

  They moved to the outside patio when they were finished, Meg rested a hand on her full stomach. “How do you stay so thin eating like that?” she asked Gabi.

  “Lots of swimming.”

  “Don’t let her fool you,” Val said across from the two of them. “She eats like a sparrow most of the time.”

  “I have to fit into my wedding dress.”

  With the mention of the pending wedding, Mrs. Masini did that growl thing Meg had grown to recognize during their time together.

  “A husband should love you heavy or thin.”

  “I want to be thin for me, Mama.”

  “I think I’ll finish my nap,” Mrs. Masini said, excusing herself. She stopped at Meg’s side. “Thank you for your company today, Margaret.”

  Meg stood and hugged her teacher. “Thank you. I really did have fun.”

  Mrs. Masini kissed her cheek and walked into the house.

  Val’s cell phone buzzed, taking his attention away. “Looks like I have to get back to work.”

  “I should wash some of this flour off before it becomes a paste on my skin.”

  Gabi brushed at her arm. “It’s not that bad.”

  The three of them walked back inside and Meg gathered her purse. She removed the note Val had sent her and waved it toward him. “Thanks for the warning.”

  “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 looke
d 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.

  A click at the front door turned their attention away from each other.

  Michael walked in the front door laughing, Ryder at his side.

  Meg rushed to Michael, pulled him inside the room, and slammed the door closed. “Thank God you’re here.”

  “What happened?” There was an abrupt end to Michael’s laughter and worry marred his face.

  “Someone on the island has a camera.”

  Michael turned white. “What?”

  Margaret placed a hand on Michael’s chest. “A picture of Val and me was in that stack of mail this morning.”

  “You and Val?”

  Margaret put both hands in the air, looked around the room. She placed a finger over her lips, and waved them all out the sliding door.

  “What are we doing out here?” Val asked once they were at the edge of the veranda.

  “It pays to be paranoid, Masini.” Margaret moved to the outside stereo, turned on a rock station. “That should work.”

  “Jesus, Meg, you’re scaring me.”

  Val noticed that Ryder had lost the color in his face, but had yet to say a word.

  “If someone has a camera, they might have audio.”

  Michael’s jaw clenched.

  Val hated that his guests were this concerned about a breach in security. Who was he kidding? Security had already been blown up. The only element missing was a leak to the media.

  “I need to notify my security,” Val told them.

  Meg offered a nod, but didn’t look into his eyes.

  Once Lou was told of the latest breach, Val returned to the Wolfe party. They were looking at the photograph with rapt attention.

  “How did this happen, Mr. Masini?” Michael asked.

  “I don’t know, but I will find out.”

  Ryder finally spoke. “We should leave.”

  Michael shook his head. “And appear guilty? I don’t think so.”

  “Mike.”

  There it was, a look between two people that couldn’t be faked or acted. Everything became perfectly clear. Michael Wolfe and his lover, who was not Margaret Rosenthal, were afraid their relationship was about to become public knowledge.

  Val thought of the first two pictures in his in-box. He hated to worry his guests, then realized the only ethical thing was to open his mouth. Even though it threatened his ability to taste Margaret again.

  “Someone is watching you.” He directed his comment to Margaret. “I’m not sure if the attention is on Margaret or you, Mr. Wolfe.”

  “The picture is of me.”

  “True. And while I hold no issue of it becoming public, it threatens your ploy here. The other one, however, plays into the ploy.”

  Margaret met his gaze.

  Her body went rigid. “Other one?”

  Good thing Lou showed up when he did. There was no telling what kind of bodily harm Meg was about to evoke on the man she’d kissed. She’d even cooked for him, for God’s sake.

  To learn that the first picture had shown up the day after they arrived on the island and she was just now hearing about it ticked her off.

  Lou wore a three-piece suit similar to Val’s. Only Lou had a shitload of body behind his threads. He looked familiar, too.

  Val handed Lou the picture. “I want to know exactly where that was taken.”

  “Right away, Mr. Masini.”

  He turned to leave and Meg jumped in front of him. “You’re the main guy . . . right? Security?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The man was taller than her, and impossible to look around. Common sense told her to filter her words. “Sweep the villa. Make sure there are no bugs.”

  Lou looked beyond her.

  She waved a hand in front of his eyes. “Now, Mr. Myong. I need to know no one is listening to me pee.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Meg followed him into the villa, leaving Michael and Ryder outside. Val followed.

  Val had Lou helping him out . . . but Meg had more resources. She’d never been happier about her connections than at that moment.

  She picked up the phone.

  “Who are you calling?” Val asked.

  “Backup.”

  Rick answered with his usual, “Hey.”

  “Rick, just the man I need to talk to.”

  “Hey, Meg. How’s paradise?”

  She rubbed her forehead. “I need to know if this line is secure.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Shit.”

  “Double shit.”

  “Margaret?” Val said behind her.

  “Zip it, Masini.” The line clicked a few times. Worry crawled up Meg’s spine. “You there?”

  “I am. My line is clear. I sent word to Neil. Call him and he’ll do a second check,” Rick said.

  “Got it.”

  “Call me back if we’re clear.”

  “I will.”

  She hung up, dialed Neil’s number, and went through the same routine. Neil was less than jovial. “You’re clear.”

  “Thanks, Neil.”

  “Can you talk?”

  She looked around the room, worried that ears were hidden behind a clock. “I don’t know yet.”

  “Contact us when you know.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. I will.”

  She hung up only to start dialing Rick again.

  “Why do I have the feeling the secret service has invaded your body?” Val asked.

  She thought of the different marriages she’d arranged, the enormity of wealth and power behind those people . . . her friends. Judy, Michael . . . her boss, Samantha. Maybe the loyalty card hadn’t skipped her, just bounced away from her blood relatives and moved to her friends.

  “The secret service would be lucky to have me,” she told him without a thread of humor.

  Rick answered on the first ring. “I’m going to hand the phone to Lou. He’s Valentino Masini’s head of security. Make sure this guy can back up his bulk, won’t you?”

  “You got it. Judy wants you to know we can be there in four and a half hours.”

  She smiled. “Have Sam’s pilot on standby.”

  “You got it.”

  Meg found Lou in her bedroom searching through everything. “Talk to Rick. Give him your name.”

  “Beg your pardon, Miss Rosenthal but—”

  “It’s OK, Lou,” Val said from the doorway.

  Meg eased up her temper. “He’s a retired Marine who specializes in security, Lou. Maybe he can help you find anything that might be lurking.”

  Only when Val nodded did Lou take the phone from her and put it to his ear.

  The villa was clear . . . and even if they missed something miniscule, Lou had a jamming device that left a high-pitched feed inside the space that affected any outside feeds. Meg insisted her cell phone return to her purse, and once Rick did another check on that and deemed it empty of covert ears, she took it outside to talk to her friends.

  Once she brought them up to date on the situation she encouraged Rick to relay to Sam any and every possible check on Sapore di Amore that hadn’t already been done.

  “I think I should be there, check for myself where the breach is taking place.”

  “Let me see what we can do here without you.”

  “I don’t like it,” Judy said from a second line in their home.

  “I don’t like it either. Michael hasn’t said much, but he’s worried.”

  “Maybe I should
talk to him.” As his sister, Judy might be able to help. But Michael and Ryder were strolling along the shore in deep conversation. They were walking yards apart, but she could still see that they weren’t paying attention to anything but each other’s words. “I’ll suggest he call you if he needs to.”

  She ended the conversation and walked into the living room, where Val was on his phone. “Everyone, Carol. No one leaves or enters the island without talking to me first. Our employees know about a lockdown drill. Tell them it’s a drill.”

  Val ended his conversation with his secretary and placed his phone in the inside pocket of his suit.

  Meg felt Val’s hand on her shoulder.

  She jumped and he dropped it to his side. “I will find who is behind this.”

  “We . . . we will find the photographer.”

  “I’m not convinced they’re looking at you, cara.”

  “I’m the link in the pictures. If I were a senator’s wife, there’d be hell to pay.” She needed to write stuff down to keep it right in her head. She shuffled through the drawers in the kitchen. There was a pad of paper somewhere. She’d seen it when they checked in.

  “What are you looking for?”

  She pulled the complimentary pad of paper from the drawer and snagged a pen. “Found it. I’m going to need a computer with Internet access.”

  “Margaret—”

  “Don’t even think of denying me. We both have something to lose here if we don’t figure out who is doing this crap.”

  “What exactly do you have to lose, Margaret?”

  She hesitated, not appreciating the position she was in. “Alliance arranges contractual agreements between exclusive clients.”

  “In English, cara.”

  “We arrange marriages. Temporary marriage contracts between two consenting adults.”

  “Like a call service?”

  She snapped her gaze to his. “Sex is not part of the contract. Ever. It’s a business agreement like any other. And the outside world believes the marriages are made out of love.”

  Val ran a hand over his chin. “And why would someone need this kind of arrangement?”

  Meg rolled her eyes. “Look around you, Masini . . . use your imagination.”

  His eyes lit up when understanding dawned.

  She removed three sheets and wrote on the top of them. Michael, Meg, Masini . . .

  “Both pictures had me in them.” She wrote pictures times two on the paper with her name. Picture times one on each of the others.

 

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