Seduced by Sunday
Page 58
One of the shipmates snapped a few pictures during the brief ceremony and again when they toasted their promise to each other.
Gabi remembered signing a paper and wondering how Alonzo had managed a marriage certificate in the middle of the ocean. Then he had swept her away to his cabin.
Hours later, she woke with a headache and a roll in her stomach. Like before, Alonzo wasn’t at her side. The sun was setting with a cool breeze that helped clear her head when she emerged from their bed.
Alonzo was holding on to the rail, overlooking the ocean as the sun set. “There you are,” she said as she slid her hands around his waist.
He covered her hand with his and kissed the top of her head. “You were so peaceful, Mrs. Picano. It was my husbandly duty to let you sleep.”
“And miss the sunset?”
He pulled her close.
Once in the crook of his arm, she said, “We’re really married.”
“We are.”
“I think that has to be the most spontaneous anything I’ve ever done,” Gabi told him with a sigh.
Alonzo pulled away and his smile fell. “You still have a headache, don’t you?”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “A little.”
He sat her down and told her to wait for him. When he returned, he had another dose of aspirin and a glass of water.
“You’re taking such sweet care of me,” she told him.
“I promised I would, didn’t I?”
Gabi couldn’t really remember if that was part of their wedding vows. She chided herself for forgetting the words so quickly. Maybe when the headache eased off, she’d remember everything clearly.
Alonzo sat beside her and let her drop her head on his shoulder. The lull of the sea and the medication made quick work of her headache. She was starting to wonder if maybe Alonzo’s medicine from Italy was a miracle worker. She’d never had such a quick turnaround of pain in all her life. In fact, her head floated a little as the pain drifted away.
“Better already?” Alonzo asked as the sun left their company.
“It must be you,” she said.
He stood and reached for her. “Come with me then. I have a meal fit for a new bride ready for you to consume.”
She floated, like the pain scattering, while they dined, drank, and even danced. The night was magical. Everything Gabi thought her wedding day and evening should have been.
The next morning, a bottle of medicine stood next to a glass of water.
Alonzo was once again somewhere other than by her side.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“It’s our third winery and no one’s talking.” Margaret nudged her head between the seats. All Val could sense was the smell of her hair. The hotel had a brand that used grapeseed and oil . . . the perfume intoxicated him. Or maybe it was the woman who used it.
“It’s almost like they’re purposely not talking.”
Michael spoke the words already swimming in Val’s head. They’d walked into the winery to the east of Alonzo’s with Margaret and Michael posing as a couple . . . Val walked in a short time later and stood to the side as they sipped wine and asked questions. As soon as they spoke of the Picano winery, the blinders went on and the smiles shifted off. The second winery to the south was the same. The northern winery held less back, but still said nothing about their neighbor. The property had changed hands a few years past, but nothing more than that. Still, Val thought there was a conversation taking place that he didn’t hear. Not even in Italian.
“I say we switch it up,” Margaret suggested. “The next stop, you stay in the car,” she told Michael. “Val and I can go in . . . I’ll be a tad tipsy and my Italian hottie will be working hard to get lucky by getting me into Alonzo’s winery.”
Alonzo didn’t have a tasting room, which in and of itself wasn’t completely unheard of . . . but with so many wineries in the region, it wasn’t the best business practice.
Margaret unbuttoned the top buttons on her blouse until the creamy expanse of her breasts met the warm Italian air.
“What are you doing?”
“Stacking the deck,” she said before applying a fresh layer of lip gloss. She teased her hair and blew Val a kiss.
She was lovely. Even in her attempt to look like a common good time. Val knew the woman beneath. She was more frustrated with the roadblock they’d managed to find than he was. Gabi meant something to her. We’re not going to let her make a massive mistake if Alonzo is playing her. Her words resonated in Val’s ears. He’d been so wrapped up in his own life, his work, that he hadn’t done his job protecting his sister. He should have investigated Alonzo more. In the effort to ensure his sister’s privacy, he’d taken everything Alonzo presented him as truth.
Val had checked out the fact that Alonzo actually had his name associated with the vineyard. But that was as far as Val checked.
Now, months later, he was traversing the Italian countryside to find fault with his future brother-in-law. The man sleeping with his sister.
Val cringed. His sister was, right at that moment, alone with the man.
A short vacation, Alonzo had called it. A way to reconnect with his future bride . . . Why would a fiancé need to reconnect with his future bride?
Michael drove up to the parking lot and Val guided Margaret out of the backseat.
The second they left the car, Margaret started giggling and stumbling into him.
“Are you OK?”
She sent him a sobering look. “Work with me, Val.”
He pasted on a smile and led her into the tasting room.
Loud and American was an art form, and Margaret had it down.
Gabi remembered signing a paper and wondering how Alonzo had managed a marriage certificate in the middle of the ocean. Then he had swept her away to his cabin.
Hours later, she woke with a headache and a roll in her stomach. Like before, Alonzo wasn’t at her side. The sun was setting with a cool breeze that helped clear her head when she emerged from their bed.
Alonzo was holding on to the rail, overlooking the ocean as the sun set. “There you are,” she said as she slid her hands around his waist.
He covered her hand with his and kissed the top of her head. “You were so peaceful, Mrs. Picano. It was my husbandly duty to let you sleep.”
“And miss the sunset?”
He pulled her close.
Once in the crook of his arm, she said, “We’re really married.”
“We are.”
“I think that has to be the most spontaneous anything I’ve ever done,” Gabi told him with a sigh.
Alonzo pulled away and his smile fell. “You still have a headache, don’t you?”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “A little.”
He sat her down and told her to wait for him. When he returned, he had another dose of aspirin and a glass of water.
“You’re taking such sweet care of me,” she told him.
“I promised I would, didn’t I?”
Gabi couldn’t really remember if that was part of their wedding vows. She chided herself for forgetting the words so quickly. Maybe when the headache eased off, she’d remember everything clearly.
Alonzo sat beside her and let her drop her head on his shoulder. The lull of the sea and the medication made quick work of her headache. She was starting to wonder if maybe Alonzo’s medicine from Italy was a miracle worker. She’d never had such a quick turnaround of pain in all her life. In fact, her head floated a little as the pain drifted away.
“Better already?” Alonzo asked as the sun left their company.
“It must be you,” she said.
He stood and reached for her. “Come with me then. I have a meal fit for a new bride ready for you to consume.”
She floated, like the pain scattering, while they dined, drank, and even danced. The night was magical. Everything Gabi thought her wedding day and evening should have been.
The next morning, a bottle of medicine stood next to a glass of water.
Alonzo was once again somewhere other than by her side.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“It’s our third winery and no one’s talking.” Margaret nudged her head between the seats. All Val could sense was the smell of her hair. The hotel had a brand that used grapeseed and oil . . . the perfume intoxicated him. Or maybe it was the woman who used it.
“It’s almost like they’re purposely not talking.”
Michael spoke the words already swimming in Val’s head. They’d walked into the winery to the east of Alonzo’s with Margaret and Michael posing as a couple . . . Val walked in a short time later and stood to the side as they sipped wine and asked questions. As soon as they spoke of the Picano winery, the blinders went on and the smiles shifted off. The second winery to the south was the same. The northern winery held less back, but still said nothing about their neighbor. The property had changed hands a few years past, but nothing more than that. Still, Val thought there was a conversation taking place that he didn’t hear. Not even in Italian.
“I say we switch it up,” Margaret suggested. “The next stop, you stay in the car,” she told Michael. “Val and I can go in . . . I’ll be a tad tipsy and my Italian hottie will be working hard to get lucky by getting me into Alonzo’s winery.”
Alonzo didn’t have a tasting room, which in and of itself wasn’t completely unheard of . . . but with so many wineries in the region, it wasn’t the best business practice.
Margaret unbuttoned the top buttons on her blouse until the creamy expanse of her breasts met the warm Italian air.
“What are you doing?”
“Stacking the deck,” she said before applying a fresh layer of lip gloss. She teased her hair and blew Val a kiss.
She was lovely. Even in her attempt to look like a common good time. Val knew the woman beneath. She was more frustrated with the roadblock they’d managed to find than he was. Gabi meant something to her. We’re not going to let her make a massive mistake if Alonzo is playing her. Her words resonated in Val’s ears. He’d been so wrapped up in his own life, his work, that he hadn’t done his job protecting his sister. He should have investigated Alonzo more. In the effort to ensure his sister’s privacy, he’d taken everything Alonzo presented him as truth.
Val had checked out the fact that Alonzo actually had his name associated with the vineyard. But that was as far as Val checked.
Now, months later, he was traversing the Italian countryside to find fault with his future brother-in-law. The man sleeping with his sister.
Val cringed. His sister was, right at that moment, alone with the man.
A short vacation, Alonzo had called it. A way to reconnect with his future bride . . . Why would a fiancé need to reconnect with his future bride?
Michael drove up to the parking lot and Val guided Margaret out of the backseat.
The second they left the car, Margaret started giggling and stumbling into him.
“Are you OK?”
She sent him a sobering look. “Work with me, Val.”
He pasted on a smile and led her into the tasting room.
Loud and American was an art form, and Margaret had it down.
