“I know some amazing designers in LA who work on Hollywood’s timeline of needing everything yesterday, Gabi. Maybe you can come back with us when we leave.”
The color in her friend’s face started to return.
“That’s ridiculous. There are plenty of dressmakers in South Florida,” Alonzo said.
“I like the idea of going to Los Angeles and finding the perfect dress.”
When Alonzo patted Gabi’s hand, Meg had a desire to kick him under the table. Instead, she nudged Michael and made sure he noticed the subtle gesture.
“I’m sure I can find you someone here you can trust to give you what you need.”
Before Meg could chime in, the older women did so for her. “The groom can’t see the dress before the big day.”
“Certainly not.”
Alonzo couldn’t get a word in, but he kept his hand over Gabi’s until she tugged it away to drink from her wineglass.
Michael diverted the subject. “Mr. Picano.”
Alonzo directed his attention away from Gabi.
“I have to tell you, last night we had a bottle of your 2009 merlot. It’s one of the best I’ve tasted,” he told him.
“Thank you. I’m surprised there are still bottles available. I thought that was one of the years needing replenishment.”
“There was a pallet of wine in the warehouse yesterday. I wonder if the merlot was part of those crates.”
“Wine left in a warehouse? That doesn’t sound right . . . not in this heat.” Mrs. Cornwell would know.
“They were cool, I assure you,” Gabi told the lady. “I thought maybe you’d come in early and delivered more wine. Julio seemed surprised they were there.”
Meg noticed Val’s rapt attention to the conversation.
“I’m sure your guests don’t want to hear about wine deliveries,” Alonzo said to Gabi.
“Or wedding dresses,” Mr. Dray added.
Mrs. Dray nudged him with her elbow. “We did that enough with Millie to last until the grandbabies are married.”
“I say we bully Michael into telling us about his next movie.” Ryder cut the conversation with his words and the men switched subjects.
Gabi listened without comment, her silence loud as anything Meg had ever heard. Sometime between appetizers and dinner, she stood to excuse herself to the restroom.
“I’ll join you.” Meg pushed away from the table. “I don’t remember where it is.”
The men sat back down as they walked away from the table and Gabi led the way out of the dining room.
As Meg expected, once behind the ladies’ room door, Gabi collapsed into one of the chairs and fought tears.
Meg grabbed a box of tissues from the vanity. “Don’t start that. Your makeup won’t hold up.”
Gabi grabbed a tissue and dabbed under her eyes. “He’s being awful.”
“Oh, I don’t know . . . Val’s quite charming.”
The smile Meg was reaching for never emerged from her friend. “He’s not like this.”
“Controlling, condescending, and difficult?”
“You see it, don’t you?”
Meg saw that and a whole lot more. “I think it’s important to see all sides of a person before you exchange wedding vows.”
Gabi abruptly stood and moved to the mirror. “I’m going with you to LA.” She turned. “If that’s really an invitation and not something said out of politeness.”
Meg stood beside her and adjusted Gabi’s dress. “I insist. There’s something else I want to do for you.”
“Oh?”
“One of my job descriptions is finding every minuscule part of a person’s present or past that might impede a contract between two parties.”
“You mean between Alonzo and I?”
“Marriage is a big step.”
A frown marred Gabi’s brow. “Isn’t that violating something?”
“It’s not illegal to ask around.”
“Moral?”
“I’m a Catholic Jew. Eat the bacon! Don’t eat the bacon, it’s a sin. I’m already morally messed up.”
Gabi finally laughed. “I’m rather fond of bacon.”
Chapter Fifteen
It killed Val to move about the night as if nothing was going on. Nothing appeared in his in-box all day; nothing arrived via mail. Dinner had been tense, but he couldn’t put his finger on why.
Seemed Gabi and Margaret were getting along well enough as the evening moved from dinner to drinks at the island’s after-hours club.
Surprisingly, Alonzo retired without Gabi at his side. He noticed the two of them talking in rather heated tones outside the restaurant before Alonzo excused himself.
Instead of opening up to him, Gabi moved to Margaret’s table and sandwiched herself between the three of them. Before long, his sister’s smile returned and Michael took her to the dance floor.
Jim found Val hovering in the corner and slapped a hand to his back.
They shook hands, each of them trying to squeeze harder than the other. “I’m leaving in the morning,” Jim told him.
“When will I see you again?”
“Gabi’s wedding?” They both looked at the dance floor. “Is there still a wedding?”
Val thought of Michael Wolfe and his “friend,” who sat by watching the other man. Then Gabi started dancing with someone else.
“I’ll let you know,” Val told his friend.
Jim chuckled and walked away.
Val watched Jim tap Margaret on the shoulder and invite her to the dance floor.
He swung her out and pulled her close, whispered something in her ear.
She pushed him away, laughing, and continued to dance.
Val didn’t consider himself a jealous man, but damn it, Margaret was changing that.
They were quite the entertainment, the petite, pale blonde and the robust, dark blues singer. Seemed everyone was watching them dance, enjoying Jim’s moves and Margaret’s demure attention to her dance partner.
Val had to admit, they were engaging.
Then the song ended and Margaret did the unexpected.
She smacked a kiss right on Jim’s lips, leaving him stumbling back, holding his chest. Val was too far away to hear the exchange, but several people around them started to laugh as Jim gave her a playful smack on the ass and walked away.
Val moved in, caught her before she could leave the floor. The song was slower than the others, affording him the right to pull her against his frame. “You’re killing me, cara. Do you know that?”
“Jim is harmless,” she said close to his ear.
“The man has been married to five women. Dated women as young as you.”
The sway of her hips against his reminded him how much he wanted her. He sucked in a breath of control.
“I won’t be his next anything, Masini.”
He knew that. Was more secure than that. So why did he release a breath as if he’d just broken the surface of water in need of air? “Are you really leaving on Monday?”
Their quiet dance floor conversation kept him straining to hear her words, except when he felt her breath against the lobe of his ear. That was a torture all on its own.
“And I’m taking your sister with me.”
He backed away to see if her eyes lied. “Really?”
She nodded, moved closer to talk to him. “Do you ever leave the island?”
Not often, but he did have people here he could depend on to watch over things in his absence.
“Occasionally.”
Between Val, Jim, Michael, and Ryder, Meg was having a hard time sitting down. Gabi was dancing just as much and from the look in her eyes, having a great time doing it.
The lack of alcohol the night before made the bourbon Meg had been drinking go straight to her head. She excused herself to the ladies’ room between dances. It was when she took a wrong turn and ended up down a service hall that Meg realized she needed to switch to Coke. She rounded two corners before realizing she wasn’t walking towa
rd the music, but away from it.
“Whoa. Steady there.”
Meg wasn’t sure what startled her more. The man stopping her in her path, or his clothing.
“I got turned around.”
It was hard to see his features under the hoodie.
Why was he wearing a hoodie? It wasn’t cold.
He pointed a finger at her. “You’re the one kissing everyone.”
“Excuse me?”
The man, who was taller than she was and had a good fifty pounds on her, moved closer.
Meg backed away.
“You shouldn’t be back here.” His sour breath brushed against her, his tongue licked his lips.
Funny how panic sobered you. The stranger was too close, too shadowed to describe, and much too quiet for Meg’s comfort.
The corridor to the left was empty, so was the one to the right. For the life of her she couldn’t remember which way she’d come from.
She felt her lungs constrict.
The stranger moved a half foot closer. Any more and she’d scream.
He placed a hand on the wall behind her, pinning her in on one side. “Back off, Margaret.”
Isn’t that my line?
“Best you leave before you get hurt.”
The man placed a finger to the shadow of his hoodie and shushed her. Then he was gone.
There were times in your life when you were given a free pass. Like a run through a red light you simply didn’t see and no one smashed into you . . . or a poke into an electronic device that wasn’t unplugged, yet you’re still standing with straight hair to tell about it.
This was one of those moments.
And Meg knew it.
Her lungs, however, didn’t.
And her inhaler was in her purse, sitting on the table.
She took a few steps and found the hall spinning. Instead of fighting it, she slid down the wall and lowered her head.
Slow, deep breaths in, slower breaths out.
“Gabi?” Val motioned his sister to the table. “Margaret’s been gone for some time. Can you check on her?”
Though his sister’s smile was brilliant, he couldn’t remember seeing her eyes so glossed over.
“Meg went to the bathroom without me?”
Val didn’t want to tell his sister that it wouldn’t be hard with all the attention she was drawing to herself on the dance floor. “Some time ago, tesoro.”
Gabi waved him off and headed toward the ladies’ room. When his sister returned without Margaret, the itch inside Val’s left eye started to twitch.
Michael and Ryder were talking to some of the hotel guests at a stand-up table.
“Stay here,” he instructed his intoxicated sister.
Val tapped Michael on the shoulder. “Would Margaret return to the villa alone?”
Michael looked over Val’s head. “No. Not without saying something.”
“What’s going on?” Ryder asked.
“Margaret’s missing.”
“Seriously?” Ryder’s smile fell.
Michael nodded toward the outside. “You check outside,” he told Ryder.
“I’ll start in the back.” Val headed toward the ladies’ room, felt Michael close on his heels.
The hall to the restrooms didn’t house a petite blonde . . . or at least not the one he was searching for.
He pushed back out into the fray, looked over the heads of the people in the club. He and Michael split up and returned back to the bathroom less than five minutes later.
“She’s not in the club,” Michael said.
Val stepped back into the hall with the bathrooms, noticed the service door, and walked through it.
“She wouldn’t have come this way.”
“She’s been drinking.” Val thought of his sister, the gloss in her eyes. “Margaret!” he yelled. He rounded the corner to the back of the restaurant, knew the corridor well, and started to turn back.
Michael stopped him with a firm hand to the chest.
A soft thump hit a wall, repeatedly.
Both of them ran.
Val felt part of him die when he saw Meg slumped over herself, hitting the wall with a weak hand.
“Cara!”
“Jesus, Meg.”
They fell on her in unison.
Val placed a hand on her face, made her focus.
“Purse.”
What? “What happened?”
“Inhaler. Purse.”
It took Val a moment to process her words. It took Michael half that time. The other man ran from the hall, back the way they came.
Val panicked. Knew he was even when he was doing so. His cell phone was out of his pocket in a nanosecond.
“Good evening, Mr. Masini.”
“I need the nurse in the corridor between the lounge and the restaurant . . . now.”
“Right away, Mr. Masini.”
“Call an air ambulance.”
Margaret shook her head.
He didn’t listen.
“Right away, Mr. Masini.”
He dropped the phone to her side, heard how little air was moving inside her lungs.
Michael burst through the door, her purse in his hand. Ryder, Gabi, and several employees trailed behind.
Michael fished out her medicine, shook it, and placed it to her lips. “Deep breath.”
She sucked in a pathetic breath and Michael repeated the process.
“What happened?” Gabi cried behind them.
“Someone call an ambulance.”
Val focused on Margaret. Her eyes found his as she sucked in another shot of the inhaler.
He didn’t realize he was squeezing her hand until she squeezed it back.
“I’m here, cara. You’re going to be OK.”
“You were lucky, Miss Rosenthal.”
She was still wheezing, her lungs not completely right but so much better than when they’d landed at Miami General.
When the second hit of the inhaler didn’t do squat, she knew she was in trouble.
Val kept talking. Helped her take slow breaths and control the panic that threatened.
She couldn’t remember it ever being this bad.
“When was the last time you saw a pulmonologist?” Doctor Stick Up His Ass asked.
“My general sees me every year.”
“You need a lung doctor. You should know that.”
She did, but had ignored the need every year she visited her general. The meds she was on controlled her asthma well enough. At least until today.
“Know anyone in LA?”
The ER doctor shook his head. “I have a friend, Dr. Eddy. I’ll call him and ask if he knows of anyone close by.”
“Thanks.”
“In the meantime, there are much better drugs out there.” He told her what he was prescribing before she left his hospital. There was a daily pill, a daily inhaler, and a different rescue inhaler she’d not used before. Seemed the meds she’d taken from early high school were obsolete.
Who knew?
The doctor started to leave the room. “Doctor?”
“Yes?”
She sighed, adjusted the tube of oxygen that sat inside her nose. “Thanks.”
He pointed directly at her. “Thank me by not coming back. Do you know how many young women like you die every year from an asthma attack by ignoring their symptoms?”
She shook her head.
“Don’t be one of them.” He glanced at the monitor above her. “You’re going to be here for a while, Miss Rosenthal. Might as well try and get some sleep.”
She closed her eyes and felt her pulse beating too fast, even her breaths were too short. But at least they worked. Good God, she knew what a fish out of water felt like.
“Miss Rosenthal?” The nurse woke her. How was it possible she’d fallen asleep?
“Yes?”
“There are some very anxious people outside who want to know you’re all right.”
Meg pushed herself up on the gurney. “Bri
ng them in.”
“All of them?”
“Better all together than one at a time.”
The nurse smiled and opened the door.
Michael entered the room first, his smile forced. “I knew you liked attention, Meg . . . but this is extreme.”
Ryder smacked him, kissed her cheek. “How are you feeling?”
“Better.”
Val stood behind his sister and Mrs. Masini. The older woman’s painful expression stuck somewhere inside of her.
“You gave us quite a scare,” Gabi said from the foot of the bed.
“Sorry.”
“What happened? How did you get back there?”
“Took a wrong turn.” Her gaze met Val’s, his eyes narrowed as if he was searching her words for the truth.
Michael sat on the edge of the bed. “Was the dancing too much?”
That and she had the shit scared out of her. The anxious faces, Mrs. Masini’s in particular, kept her from blurting out the encounter with the hooded man. “M-must have been. I’m sorry for all the trouble.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Meg,” Mrs. Masini said.
Meg glanced at the hospital clock with a frown. “It’s after two in the morning. You should go back, get some sleep.”
Michael started to shake his head.
“Take Mrs. Masini and Gabi back with you. Make sure they get home OK.”
“We can wait for you,” Gabi said.
“They want me to have another treatment, make sure I don’t have a relapse. It might be a while.”
“You can’t rest with all of us here, can you?” Mrs. Masini offered the best reason for them to leave. The older woman walked forward and patted Meg’s hand.
The jittery reaction to the medication made Meg’s hand shake terribly.
“Valentino will stay with you, bring you back when you’re ready,” Mrs. Masini told her.
Val pushed away from the wall. “I’d have it no other way, Mama.”
Michael kissed the back of her hand. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. I’ll be back by breakfast.” She took another look at the clock. “Maybe lunch.”
She accepted hugs and kisses before they all fled the small room.
Val pulled a chair alongside the gurney and took her hand. “What upset you, cara?”
His soft, pleading gaze turned hard with her first words. “There was a man . . .”
Seduced by Sunday Page 13
