Seduced by Sunday
Page 8
That had Michael smiling.
“You don’t watch my movies?”
“Oh, I watch them. I’m not starstruck. I hope that’s OK with you.”
Michael smiled. “Perfectly.”
“Before I take your order, how would you like the staff to address you? Do you use an alias?”
Meg couldn’t hold in a laugh. “Maybe we should call you Harvey.”
Michael removed his sunglasses and offered a pointed stare. “Let’s stick with Michael.”
“But Harvey—”
“Margaret!” Oh, that burned.
“You can call me Meg and Michael, Michael.”
Ben offered a quick nod. “What are you drinking?”
Ben walked away after taking their order and she took another look around. “Am I the only one who feels like we’ve taken a plane ride to Fantasy Island and Mini-Masini is going to pop out at any moment?”
Michael tossed his head back and laughed.
Val sipped his bourbon and watched the activity by the pool from his office perch. His eyes were drawn to his new guests the moment they walked into view. Margaret Rosenthal’s vintage hairstyle and natural beauty gave her the movie star appearance, Michael, her arm dressing.
His gaze moved beyond the couple to the other guests.
Mrs. Clayton, wife of billionaire Ron Clayton, Internet gaming mogul, kept eyeing Michael and laughing with her guest, Cynthia Hernandez. Though the women were here on a girls’ weekend, in truth, they were both sleeping with men who were not their husbands, who had taken another villa next door to theirs. The fact that Mrs. Clayton kept staring made Val take note. About half of his guests were at his resort for clandestine rendezvous. The others didn’t want to be bothered during their vacations.
The question was . . . where did Michael and Margaret fall?
Clandestine?
Or don’t screw with me?
Val couldn’t help but think they weren’t on a simple vacation.
“You worked hard to obtain access to my island, Margaret . . . why?” he whispered to the closed window.
The phone on his desk buzzed, he pressed the speaker to answer. “Yes, Carol?”
“Mr. Picano is pulling into the loading dock.”
“Is Gabi there?”
“She’s on her way.”
“Thank you.” Val disconnected the call from his secretary and took his sunglasses from his desk before heading out the door. Spying on the movie star and his companion would have to wait.
He jogged down the stairway instead of taking the elevator to the ground floor.
The mouthwatering scents from the kitchen told him the staff there was already baking the evening’s desserts and the roasts were in the ovens. There would be fresh fish selections plucked right from the sea surrounding them and organic vegetables brought in daily from the mainland.
When he thought of the word organic, he pictured Margaret making her comment about being green.
Words like fresh and organic were all over his chef’s menu. That’s what happened when you employed only the finest in the culinary arts. Would she poke fun at his menu? Would she find fault? And why was he spending any time wondering what the woman thought?
Val sat behind the wheel of his personal golf cart and sped toward the docks.
He found Gabi and Alonzo Picano standing beside each other. Alonzo’s personal yacht was a buzz of activity as several crates were removed and stacked on the pier.
“Picano?” Val called to acquire his attention.
The man turned and presented a full-wattage smile. “There you are.”
Val offered a strong handshake, felt the confidence inside the other man with the simple gesture. “What have you brought us?”
“Wine, of course. What else?”
“Isn’t it lovely, Val?” Gabi asked. She moved closer to Alonzo and pushed her hair behind her shoulder.
“I can’t have my future brother-in-law’s cellars run dry, now can I?”
Alonzo placed a possessive arm around Gabi and kissed the top of her head.
His sister glowed.
Val spoke at a charity dinner in Miami where Gabi and Alonzo first met. Alonzo, much like many men in the room, sought out his sister, only he stuck. From there, the man made it his primary goal to snag her.
They’d been dating for four months when he pulled Val aside and asked permission to marry her. The tradition might have been ancient, but since Val and Gabi had lost their father early in life, it seemed only fitting that Alonzo respect his family in this way.
Even for Val, the courtship had been fast. He welcomed Alonzo into the family, but honored his mother’s request that they have a long engagement. Longer than Alonzo wanted, in any event. If it were up to the groom, the couple would already be honeymooning. As it stood, the wedding was going to take place in the fall. Since spring was just now sizzling into summer, there was some time to plan and make damn certain Gabi was making the right choice.
“I have many wine vendors, Alonzo. I doubt my guests will drink me dry.”
“But my wine is free. That must count for something.”
“And it’s lovely,” Gabi chimed in.
Alonzo owned a winery in Italy, and was in the process of obtaining property in Napa Valley to extend his production. According to Val’s research on the man, he’d been in the wine business just shy of five years. The wine was working for the man, but it wasn’t making him rich. No, his family had made him a wealthy man before grapes became part of his life. The Picano portfolio was packed with investments in shipping, property in major ports, and a handful of banks in South America. Diversifying to wine made sense.
“You don’t watch my movies?”
“Oh, I watch them. I’m not starstruck. I hope that’s OK with you.”
Michael smiled. “Perfectly.”
“Before I take your order, how would you like the staff to address you? Do you use an alias?”
Meg couldn’t hold in a laugh. “Maybe we should call you Harvey.”
Michael removed his sunglasses and offered a pointed stare. “Let’s stick with Michael.”
“But Harvey—”
“Margaret!” Oh, that burned.
“You can call me Meg and Michael, Michael.”
Ben offered a quick nod. “What are you drinking?”
Ben walked away after taking their order and she took another look around. “Am I the only one who feels like we’ve taken a plane ride to Fantasy Island and Mini-Masini is going to pop out at any moment?”
Michael tossed his head back and laughed.
Val sipped his bourbon and watched the activity by the pool from his office perch. His eyes were drawn to his new guests the moment they walked into view. Margaret Rosenthal’s vintage hairstyle and natural beauty gave her the movie star appearance, Michael, her arm dressing.
His gaze moved beyond the couple to the other guests.
Mrs. Clayton, wife of billionaire Ron Clayton, Internet gaming mogul, kept eyeing Michael and laughing with her guest, Cynthia Hernandez. Though the women were here on a girls’ weekend, in truth, they were both sleeping with men who were not their husbands, who had taken another villa next door to theirs. The fact that Mrs. Clayton kept staring made Val take note. About half of his guests were at his resort for clandestine rendezvous. The others didn’t want to be bothered during their vacations.
The question was . . . where did Michael and Margaret fall?
Clandestine?
Or don’t screw with me?
Val couldn’t help but think they weren’t on a simple vacation.
“You worked hard to obtain access to my island, Margaret . . . why?” he whispered to the closed window.
The phone on his desk buzzed, he pressed the speaker to answer. “Yes, Carol?”
“Mr. Picano is pulling into the loading dock.”
“Is Gabi there?”
“She’s on her way.”
“Thank you.” Val disconnected the call from his secretary and took his sunglasses from his desk before heading out the door. Spying on the movie star and his companion would have to wait.
He jogged down the stairway instead of taking the elevator to the ground floor.
The mouthwatering scents from the kitchen told him the staff there was already baking the evening’s desserts and the roasts were in the ovens. There would be fresh fish selections plucked right from the sea surrounding them and organic vegetables brought in daily from the mainland.
When he thought of the word organic, he pictured Margaret making her comment about being green.
Words like fresh and organic were all over his chef’s menu. That’s what happened when you employed only the finest in the culinary arts. Would she poke fun at his menu? Would she find fault? And why was he spending any time wondering what the woman thought?
Val sat behind the wheel of his personal golf cart and sped toward the docks.
He found Gabi and Alonzo Picano standing beside each other. Alonzo’s personal yacht was a buzz of activity as several crates were removed and stacked on the pier.
“Picano?” Val called to acquire his attention.
The man turned and presented a full-wattage smile. “There you are.”
Val offered a strong handshake, felt the confidence inside the other man with the simple gesture. “What have you brought us?”
“Wine, of course. What else?”
“Isn’t it lovely, Val?” Gabi asked. She moved closer to Alonzo and pushed her hair behind her shoulder.
“I can’t have my future brother-in-law’s cellars run dry, now can I?”
Alonzo placed a possessive arm around Gabi and kissed the top of her head.
His sister glowed.
Val spoke at a charity dinner in Miami where Gabi and Alonzo first met. Alonzo, much like many men in the room, sought out his sister, only he stuck. From there, the man made it his primary goal to snag her.
They’d been dating for four months when he pulled Val aside and asked permission to marry her. The tradition might have been ancient, but since Val and Gabi had lost their father early in life, it seemed only fitting that Alonzo respect his family in this way.
Even for Val, the courtship had been fast. He welcomed Alonzo into the family, but honored his mother’s request that they have a long engagement. Longer than Alonzo wanted, in any event. If it were up to the groom, the couple would already be honeymooning. As it stood, the wedding was going to take place in the fall. Since spring was just now sizzling into summer, there was some time to plan and make damn certain Gabi was making the right choice.
“I have many wine vendors, Alonzo. I doubt my guests will drink me dry.”
“But my wine is free. That must count for something.”
“And it’s lovely,” Gabi chimed in.
Alonzo owned a winery in Italy, and was in the process of obtaining property in Napa Valley to extend his production. According to Val’s research on the man, he’d been in the wine business just shy of five years. The wine was working for the man, but it wasn’t making him rich. No, his family had made him a wealthy man before grapes became part of his life. The Picano portfolio was packed with investments in shipping, property in major ports, and a handful of banks in South America. Diversifying to wine made sense.
