That night, Meg packed her bags and found it was her time to stare out a high-rise window and debate her life.
What did her life even look like anymore? She’d spent over a month of her life buried in Val and his family. Kidnapping, drugs . . . bootleg wine. Everything had changed, and outside of the obvious, Meg couldn’t completely tell why.
Watching the light slowly fill Gabi’s eyes again reminded Meg that life was meant to be lived. The entire situation with Alonzo, Stephan . . . the drugs, could have had a fatal turn. As it was, the DEA seized the rest of the drugs in Val’s cellars. Two additional staff members had been flushed out and charges were brought against them. Stephan would spend a significant time in jail, and if he ever managed to get out, he’d most likely be a target for the Mexican drug runner who was still out there.
Then there was Alonzo. The man was barely conscious and half-dead when the Coast Guard fished him from the water. Meg held some satisfaction to know that Val shoved a fist into the man’s wounds, made him hurt just a little more. He’d made it into surgery, but the amount of holes from Rick, Neil, and at least two others from aboard one of the Coast Guard’s ships were simply too much for the ass to handle. He still clung to life, with little chance of breathing off a ventilator.
There weren’t many people that Meg truly wanted dead . . . but Alonzo was one of them.
He’d shattered Gabi, and it was going to take a long time to bring her back to the smiling, happy woman she was only a month ago.
The door to her room clicked and Val walked inside. His jacket was on his arm, his tie loose around his neck. He’d been burning daylight hours with rehiring staff, building his virtual defensive walls, and balancing his sister, mother . . . and even Meg.
“Hey,” she managed.
“Hey.” Val dropped his jacket on the bed and crossed the room. He pulled her into his arms and held her. He did that a lot, just held her as if she were the most precious thing in the world.
“I-I packed.”
“I don’t want to think of you leaving.”
“My flight is at noon.” The lump in her throat made her choke. She wasn’t an emotional sap, so why was she on the verge of crying?
He drew away and kissed her forehead. “Ti amo, bella. We’ll figure this out.”
A sad smile emerged with his soft words. She never asked what they meant, just thought they were endearing, and from the tone, she felt it, too.
“Gabi is coming with me.”
At first, Val held his breath . . . then he sighed and pulled her onto the loveseat. “Is that smart? Shouldn’t she be with her mother?”
Meg held his hand, saw the pain in his eyes. “She needs to heal, Val. The island will be a reminder of him . . . of everything. In time, maybe that will change. A change of scenery, people. She needs to control her destiny and not be dependent on anyone other than herself now.”
Val didn’t appear convinced.
“She smiled today. After she made the decision to move away. She’ll stay with me. Sam already offered her a job. I think it’s the right move.”
“I want to argue, but think you might be right.”
“She can always come back, if I’m not,” Meg said.
He tilted his head, ran a hand over the five o’clock shadow that never seemed to completely go away since she’d told him she liked the look. He really was one of the most beautiful men she’d ever feasted her eyes on. Not seeing him daily was truly going to suck. Her heart broke a little more as the hours ticked down to her departure.
“Damn it, Val. I’m going to miss you.” She slapped a playful hand on his chest.
He captured it and kissed her fingers. “We might be apart by miles, but not here.” He tapped their joined hands to his chest.
“I don’t do long-distance relationships.” She swiped the moisture under her eyes. Damn mascara was going to make her look like a zombie.
Val chuckled. “You don’t do sleepovers either.”
She rolled her eyes. Her bed hadn’t been lonely since Italy.
“Come here,” he said, drawing her close. His head dipped to hers and his lips chased away her tears.
He tasted her, slowly, burning the memory of his kiss deep in her soul. Meg opened to him, familiar with the dance of their tongues, and languished in his kiss until he stole her breath.
The soft scrape of his beard left a path of want down her chin, her neck. After only a few weeks, the man knew her body better than any other man cared to explore. The spot behind her ear, the space between her collarbone, the brush of his fingers over her breasts right before he sucked one into his mouth.
He made love to her slowly, drawing her to the bed and laying her down and starting all over again. Head to toe, with plenty of stops in between. When he moved into her, with her, and pushed them both to the point where passion met the stars and flew on past, Meg realized one thing . . . she loved him.
Desperately.
Completely.
Telling him would just make it harder to leave. Instead, she felt the tears gather again, listened to Val say beautiful things in a language she didn’t understand, and made love to him until the early morning hours.
They kept quiet the next morning, made love in the shower one last time, dressed, and went to the hospital to gather Gabi and say good-bye.
Val held her hand, kept telling her they were going to be fine . . .
Meg didn’t see it. His life was in Florida, and hers was an entire country away.
Gabi woke before the sun. The nurse made her rounds and removed all the needles and medications from Gabi’s room.
She showered, dressed, and waited for the doctor’s last visit. She hurt, still. Two weeks and her body had aged ten years.
Alonzo had drugged her. The pills he told her were aspirin weren’t. The strong opiates left her with headaches. The alcohol he’d given her made it worse. Then the pain had gotten better. She remembered her wedding . . . how Alonzo had constructed the whole thing. She’d been high, even then, but she couldn’t say she didn’t know what she was doing. And that was the biggest betrayal of all. After that, everything was a blur. The first time the needle had pierced her skin the euphoria had been instant. She remembered, briefly, that it wasn’t right. Nothing worked against pain like that. Nothing legal, in any event. He had her out on the ocean for a week. She remembered two days of it.
Once she arrived in the hospital, all she did was beg for more drugs. The staff had to restrain her, give her weaker drugs until she could be pulled off them completely. She was humiliated, damaged.
Gabi shook the thoughts from her head, realized she wasn’t alone in the room. “Dr. Hoyt. I’m sorry . . .” she waved a hand in the air.
“Distracted. It’s OK, Gabi. I wanted to check on you before you left.”
They talked about how she was feeling, cravings for the drug she’d held a brief addiction to. She told him of her move to California and he found a list of doctors to follow up with when she got there.
Dr. Hoyt studied the floor, or maybe his shoes, but he stopped meeting her eyes when he cleared his throat. “I-I ah, I know you’ve been through hell. But I need your permission about something.”
Doctors seldom stuttered, and Dr. Hoyt, who had to be in his late sixties, seemed seasoned enough to speak in complete sentences.
“My permission?”
“It’s about your husband.”
She shuddered. “Don’t call him that.”
“Sorry. It’s about Mr. Picano.”
His image, the one of him smiling as the needle slid in . . . “What about him?”
“His brainwaves are nil, the ventilator is keeping his vital organs moving . . . without it, he will die.”
Good. The world would be a better place without him. “What do you want of me?”
“Permission to remove him from the ventilator. The family in Italy has refused to speak to us. We can obtain a court order, but it would be better if you’d allow us to remove the brea
thing tube.”
You need to work through this to get over it, Gabriella. The therapist’s words sounded in her head.
Closure . . .
Finding her backbone, Gabi stood. “Take me to him.”
Dr. Hoyt’s eyes grew wide. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“You want me to pull the plug, that’s what it is, right?”
“Essentially.”
“Then take me to him.”
It was clear by Dr. Hoyt’s stance that he wasn’t sure what to do.
Gabriella followed alongside Dr. Hoyt, up the elevator, back into the ICU where she herself recovered the first week she was in the hospital. She’d been too disoriented at the time to realize the man who put her there was feet away . . . that the same staff caring for her was taking care of him.
The bastard didn’t deserve it.
A hush went over the staff when they saw her enter the unit. Another doctor stood behind a nursing desk, and moved quickly to follow them into the private room surrounded by windows.
She braced herself, wasn’t sure what to expect when she lifted her eyes to the man who had nearly killed her.
He was hooked up to more machines than she knew existed.
His face was swollen, nearly unrecognizable; the pasty color of his skin was slick with sweat. The smell of the room was a mixture of the powerful cleaners they used on every floor and death.
She stepped closer, noticed the staff gathering behind her, watching her.
Any connection to the man she’d wanted as her husband, as the father of her children, was gone. How could that be? She thought she’d loved him, at one time. The feeling had never been mutual, she knew that now . . . but it had been real for her.
Or maybe that, too, was an illusion.
He deserved this. Living in a state of not alive and not dead.
The vindictive part of her wanted him to be aware, even if a little bit, of the state he was in.
“Can he hear me?”
One of the nurses answered, “They say that hearing is the last to go.”
She moved close, leaned over the bed, and felt her skin prickle. He couldn’t hurt her now, but she still shuddered.
“Can you hear me, Alonzo?”
Nothing.
“May God have mercy on your soul.” She paused and said what she truly felt. “Because if it were up to me, you’d burn in hell.”
She twisted on a heel, grasped the paper a nurse handed her, and signed her name. “Pull the plug, Doctor.”
The words left her lips and someone behind her shut down the machine.
The room grew silent, and Gabi walked away.
Alonzo died, officially, twenty minutes later.
Chapter Thirty-One
Gabi was a natural . . . once she remembered where she’d put her smile.
Who knew a woman who’d been sheltered, pampered, and cared for all her life would jump into a full-time job as easily as she did.
Meg knew it was all about distraction, but it seemed to be working. Watching her new friend come back to life was a slow, sometimes agonizing process.
Their first few weeks in the Tarzana house together met with daily phone calls from Val or Mrs. Masini. If Meg wasn’t there to talk with Val, he would text her . . . remind her he was thinking about her.
He’d offered to fly out and visit, but Meg kept putting him off. “Gabi needs a complete break. She’ll let you know when to visit.”
“I want to see you.”
“I don’t do long distance,” she reminded him, not really feeling the words that left her mouth.
“Is that why you sent three text messages yesterday, one with a picture of Michael and Ryder sipping wine?”
“I just thought you’d like to know that everything is working out,” she defended herself. Ryder had moved in with Michael, though with the “friends” angle. Meg had never seen Michael happier.
“You want to share your day with me, cara. I know the feeling. By the way, Jim sends his love.”
Meg found herself smiling into the phone. “Did he offer marriage again?”
Val grumbled. He’s so easy.
“He did, didn’t he?”
“You’re taken.”
“I am, am I?”
“Yes.”
She wanted to see him, desperately. But was afraid walking away again would be impossible. Her life was in California, she kept telling herself. His was not.
Meg heard Carol talking in the background before Val said, “There’s trouble in the kitchen I have to take care of.”
“Go. I have some last-minute touches on Eliza’s baby shower I need to attend to.”
“Ti amo, bella. Think of me when you close your eyes tonight.”
The brat, now she would only think of him . . . his lips . . . his touch. “Good night, Val.”
Having a home without tiny feet running around made it easy to decorate and prepare for a baby shower. Sam and Eliza insisted on having the shower in the Tarzana home. Between Gabi’s and Meg’s efforts, they’d prepared a massive pot of homemade pasta, and the sauce was simmering on the stove long before the first guest arrived.
Blue and pink balloons filled the corners of the room, and flowers, candy, and cakes sat on top of every table. Spiked and unspiked punch sat in two different crystal bowls. It was silly and sweet, and perfect for an expectant mom. The guest list for this shower was limited to immediate friends and family. Not that Eliza had any of her own, but her mother-in-law, Abigail, arrived with Eliza and Sam. Behind them, Karen and Judy shuffled in with Gwen. The small Tarzana house was overflowing with less than a dozen guests.
Everyone talked at the same time, made a great show of patting Eliza’s expectant belly, and laughed, even Gabi.
The two most likely to fall into the baby world were Judy and Karen, who were doing their best to avoid the questions of when. Meg knew Judy wasn’t quite there yet, but Karen seemed to be eyeing Eliza’s stomach with longing.
“How do you like California, Gabi?” Gwen asked.
“Dry. I like it.”
“The East Coast is sticky,” Eliza agreed.
“But green,” Meg offered. Not to mention that was where Val lived. What was he doing at that moment?
“Hmm . . .”
“What?” Meg asked Judy.
“Nothing,” she replied.
Meg shook her head and glanced at Gabi. Only she was watching Karen stroke Eliza’s belly as the baby kicked. Longing? Had Gabi wanted children with Alonzo? Had he destroyed those dreams, too?
Meg took Gabi’s arm. “Let’s see if I’ve screwed up your mother’s recipe.”
The distraction worked. When they set out the food, Gabi was smiling again.
They ate, played silly games, and gathered to watch Eliza open dozens of gifts for her unborn child.
Meg watched with interest, but her head . . . her heart wasn’t there. It had been over a month since she’d seen Val. Getting over him wasn’t happening. Maybe she should tell him to come. Maybe she should jump on a plane. As she sat in a room full of happy women, most of which were married to loving, wonderful men . . . Meg wanted to join them.
“Earth to Meg?” Judy said with a wave in front of her eyes.
The room had grown silent and everyone stared at her.
“Where are you?” Sam asked with a smile.
Her eyes started to sting with moisture. “I-I think I’m in Florida.”
Gabi reached over, took her hand. “Then why are you here?”
She offered a sad smile. “For you . . . for Alliance. This is where I live.”
“But your heart is somewhere else.” Sam was as wise as she was beautiful.
“I’m trying to stop thinking about him. Long-distance relationships don’t work.”
Sam laughed. “Blake is in Europe right now. Won’t be home for two weeks.”
“You’re married, it’s different.”
The air in the room thickened and the attention moved off
the expectant mom to Meg. “You won’t know if Val is marriage material if you don’t spend more time together,” Judy said.
Only Meg did know he was the right material. She loved the man, but was afraid to tell him. Sadly, she fell into the group of women that wanted to hear the words come from him first. Maybe then she would believe they could do this long distance . . . or make a different arrangement.
Gabi squeezed her hand. “You’ve given me plenty of sound advice I needed to hear from the moment we met, so let me give you some. My brother loves you.”
Meg scoffed.
“And you love him.”
She snorted, tried to deny it. The women in the room shook their heads, rolled their eyes.
“Nothing else matters.”
“You matter. My job.”
Gabi’s sad smile made Meg pause. “I’m OK, Meg. I appreciate your desire to help me survive the summer, but how do you think it would make me feel to know I destroyed your chance of holding on to love?”
Oh, God . . . she was right.
“As for your job . . . Eliza has successfully found clients and helped manage the business from Sacramento. Gwen continues to scout clients when we’re in Europe and during social events.”
Karen tipped back her spiked punch. “I managed the phones and assisted clients the entire time you were in Florida.”
“The point is,” Sam said, “Alliance might have a home base here, but we’re everywhere. A second office in the Keys sounds good to me. I love that part of the country.”
Judy nudged Meg’s arm. “So, do you have another excuse or hurdle to jump over, or should I call the airlines?”
Her fingers tingled, her heart knocked a few times in her chest. “I-I need to pack.”
Gwen sat back, crossed her legs as if she’d just signed a multimillion-dollar deal. “Not really. Lingerie maybe.”
“And condoms . . . unless you want this.” Eliza patted her stomach.
Meg stood, felt doubt creep in. “What if it’s a mistake?”
“What if it is? You won’t know if you don’t try. Since when are you a quitter?” Judy’s challenging tone made Meg’s feet move.
Twenty minutes later, Eliza’s driver was tossing her suitcase into the back of a limousine and she hugged her friends good-bye.
Seduced by Sunday Page 26
