Seduced by Sunday
Page 10
What would he do if she refused?
Michael didn’t give her a chance to find out.
“The invitation says his mother is a huge fan. How can I say no to a mom?” Michael had asked her.
“I say no to mine all the time.”
“If my mother received word of me refusing, I’d never hear the end of it.”
“The man is still screening me,” Meg insisted.
“Your insecurity is showing, Meg.”
“I’m not insecure.” She tried to control the lift in her voice and failed.
They now stood beside the head table, where Gabriella sat beside an older woman Meg assumed was Mrs. Masini. Valentino, of course, was absent.
“You made it.” Gabriella stood when they approached the table.
Semiformal dinner attire put Meg in her third outfit for the day. Talk about excessive. Gabriella wore a cream linen dress that stopped at her knees. The rhinestone heels highlighted her olive skin. The dress wasn’t overly flashy, just stylish and fitted.
“How could we say no?” Michael asked.
“Oh, you could have, but I’m happy you didn’t. Mama, this is Michael Wolfe and his companion, Margaret Rosenthal.”
Mrs. Masini offered the same smile her daughter owned. “You’re just as handsome in person as you are on the big screen, Mr. Wolfe.”
Michael flashed a smile and winked at Meg. “I think I need to sit beside you, Mrs. Masini.”
The older woman patted the seat at her side. “Wonderful idea.”
Michael pulled out the chair beside him for Meg.
“Are we early?” Meg asked, looking at the two vacant seats at the round table.
“Val and my fiancé will be along shortly.”
Meg glanced at Gabriella’s ring finger, noticed the engagement ring for the first time. “When is the big day?”
Something close to a grunt sounded from Mrs. Masini.
Gabriella placed a hand over her mother’s and answered, “Four and a half months.”
“Congratulations,” Michael said.
“You must be excited,” Meg said to the future mother of the bride.
Mrs. Masini’s smile fell when talking about her daughter’s wedding. “I should be, shouldn’t I?”
Interesting.
“Mother!”
“What?”
“Please.”
Michael lifted a brow.
Before any further questions, comments, or otherwise tension-building conversation could continue, Valentino and Gabriella’s fiancé arrived.
Now the tension could really begin.
Michael stood, shaking the other man’s hand. “Sorry we’re late,” Valentino said. “I see you’ve met our mother.”
Alonzo Picano was pleasant to look at, but not the stunning bookend Meg thought should be sitting beside Gabriella, or Gabi as the others referred to her. The man smiled easy enough, attempting to convince Mrs. Masini to grin, too, only to have the older woman look past him.
As everyone took their seats, Meg realized she had the privilege of sitting beside the man determined to find fault with her. On the surface, she’d have a hard time saying she didn’t like the look, or the spicy scent, of him.
He wore a solid black tux, crisp white shirt, and bow tie. Normally, the look did nothing for her. But Valentino owned the classy threads as if born to it. The other men at the table were dressed well, but didn’t compare to their host.
Mrs. Masini pulled Michael into a quiet conversation, while Gabriella whispered something to her fiancé.
Beside her, Valentino sighed. “Thank you for joining us, Miss Rosenthal.”
Meg lifted her ice water to her lips. “I didn’t realize I had the choice to refuse.”
“You’re a guest. You have the right to decline.”
Even though she felt the weight of his stare, Meg refused to look directly at him. “I’ll remember that.”
For the first time, she heard him chuckle, and the sound made her grin.
The dining room was filling with guests, while a man wearing a tuxedo played a baby grand in the corner of the room.
Linen covered every table; hurricane glasses covered flickering candles surrounded by fresh floral sprays.
The Masini table sat on an elevated platform along with several others. The space between the tables was vast enough to avoid anyone overhearing conversations. Though the ceilings soared a good twenty feet, the room was relatively quiet with the exception of the piano and chatter. Huge windows took in the azure blue sea.
“Mr. Wolfe . . . tell us, what new film are you working on?”
“I’m in between projects right now or I wouldn’t be here. And please, call me Michael.”
Mrs. Masini beamed. “I liked that car movie.”
Michael laughed. “So did I. Nothing quite like driving someone else’s expensive cars fast.”
“You do your own stunts?” Gabi asked.
“Some.”
“Mr. Masini loved to drive fast, rest his soul. It would kill him to be here on an island with only golf carts.”
“Papa would have found a way to make the cart do ninety.”
“You’re right about that, cara,” Valentino told his sister. His occasional words in Italian made Meg’s belly warm.
“Do you like fast cars, too, Mrs. Masini?” Meg asked, doing her level best to ignore the tingle spreading through her limbs.
“I do.”
The waiter arrived and presented Valentino with a bottle of wine.
With a nod from Valentino, the waiter proceeded to open it.
“You’re welcome to order whatever you like,” Gabi told them, “but Alonzo owns Grotto di Picano. His wines are wonderful.”
Michael didn’t give her a chance to find out.
“The invitation says his mother is a huge fan. How can I say no to a mom?” Michael had asked her.
“I say no to mine all the time.”
“If my mother received word of me refusing, I’d never hear the end of it.”
“The man is still screening me,” Meg insisted.
“Your insecurity is showing, Meg.”
“I’m not insecure.” She tried to control the lift in her voice and failed.
They now stood beside the head table, where Gabriella sat beside an older woman Meg assumed was Mrs. Masini. Valentino, of course, was absent.
“You made it.” Gabriella stood when they approached the table.
Semiformal dinner attire put Meg in her third outfit for the day. Talk about excessive. Gabriella wore a cream linen dress that stopped at her knees. The rhinestone heels highlighted her olive skin. The dress wasn’t overly flashy, just stylish and fitted.
“How could we say no?” Michael asked.
“Oh, you could have, but I’m happy you didn’t. Mama, this is Michael Wolfe and his companion, Margaret Rosenthal.”
Mrs. Masini offered the same smile her daughter owned. “You’re just as handsome in person as you are on the big screen, Mr. Wolfe.”
Michael flashed a smile and winked at Meg. “I think I need to sit beside you, Mrs. Masini.”
The older woman patted the seat at her side. “Wonderful idea.”
Michael pulled out the chair beside him for Meg.
“Are we early?” Meg asked, looking at the two vacant seats at the round table.
“Val and my fiancé will be along shortly.”
Meg glanced at Gabriella’s ring finger, noticed the engagement ring for the first time. “When is the big day?”
Something close to a grunt sounded from Mrs. Masini.
Gabriella placed a hand over her mother’s and answered, “Four and a half months.”
“Congratulations,” Michael said.
“You must be excited,” Meg said to the future mother of the bride.
Mrs. Masini’s smile fell when talking about her daughter’s wedding. “I should be, shouldn’t I?”
Interesting.
“Mother!”
“What?”
“Please.”
Michael lifted a brow.
Before any further questions, comments, or otherwise tension-building conversation could continue, Valentino and Gabriella’s fiancé arrived.
Now the tension could really begin.
Michael stood, shaking the other man’s hand. “Sorry we’re late,” Valentino said. “I see you’ve met our mother.”
Alonzo Picano was pleasant to look at, but not the stunning bookend Meg thought should be sitting beside Gabriella, or Gabi as the others referred to her. The man smiled easy enough, attempting to convince Mrs. Masini to grin, too, only to have the older woman look past him.
As everyone took their seats, Meg realized she had the privilege of sitting beside the man determined to find fault with her. On the surface, she’d have a hard time saying she didn’t like the look, or the spicy scent, of him.
He wore a solid black tux, crisp white shirt, and bow tie. Normally, the look did nothing for her. But Valentino owned the classy threads as if born to it. The other men at the table were dressed well, but didn’t compare to their host.
Mrs. Masini pulled Michael into a quiet conversation, while Gabriella whispered something to her fiancé.
Beside her, Valentino sighed. “Thank you for joining us, Miss Rosenthal.”
Meg lifted her ice water to her lips. “I didn’t realize I had the choice to refuse.”
“You’re a guest. You have the right to decline.”
Even though she felt the weight of his stare, Meg refused to look directly at him. “I’ll remember that.”
For the first time, she heard him chuckle, and the sound made her grin.
The dining room was filling with guests, while a man wearing a tuxedo played a baby grand in the corner of the room.
Linen covered every table; hurricane glasses covered flickering candles surrounded by fresh floral sprays.
The Masini table sat on an elevated platform along with several others. The space between the tables was vast enough to avoid anyone overhearing conversations. Though the ceilings soared a good twenty feet, the room was relatively quiet with the exception of the piano and chatter. Huge windows took in the azure blue sea.
“Mr. Wolfe . . . tell us, what new film are you working on?”
“I’m in between projects right now or I wouldn’t be here. And please, call me Michael.”
Mrs. Masini beamed. “I liked that car movie.”
Michael laughed. “So did I. Nothing quite like driving someone else’s expensive cars fast.”
“You do your own stunts?” Gabi asked.
“Some.”
“Mr. Masini loved to drive fast, rest his soul. It would kill him to be here on an island with only golf carts.”
“Papa would have found a way to make the cart do ninety.”
“You’re right about that, cara,” Valentino told his sister. His occasional words in Italian made Meg’s belly warm.
“Do you like fast cars, too, Mrs. Masini?” Meg asked, doing her level best to ignore the tingle spreading through her limbs.
“I do.”
The waiter arrived and presented Valentino with a bottle of wine.
With a nod from Valentino, the waiter proceeded to open it.
“You’re welcome to order whatever you like,” Gabi told them, “but Alonzo owns Grotto di Picano. His wines are wonderful.”
