Sunset Flare Page 3

  She slammed her suite door shut and leaned against it. The worst of this entire day was knowing that jackass’s suite was right next door to hers.

  Bloody great.

  “LISTEN, GUNNER, I APOLOGIZE for my sister. She can be a little—” Marc paused, furrowing his eyebrows together. “Obnoxious.”

  Among other things. Like intolerable, disgraceful, sexy.

  Gunner swallowed hard, ignoring the strain of his pants as images of Izzy sauntering, rather clumsy-like, through the water exploded in his head. Surprised, off-guard and drenched suited her. It was almost cute. If she hadn’t opened her mouth.

  Now, standing in the dreary library basement where Anton had been waiting for Marc and Gunner’s arrival, he gave a curt nod to the head of the Caliendos.

  Hands tucked in the pockets of his designer suit pants, Marc watched him closely, ever so slightly rocking on a pair of leather loafers that would pay a student’s year of college tuition. Gunner had owned an expensive pair of shoes like those once. In fact, he’d proudly owned a closet full. At that time in his life, he’d felt like he’d been standing on top of the world, living in a luxurious villa in Rome’s city center, overlooking staff who obeyed his every command from his top floor window office. He’d even had a gorgeous wife waiting for him at home.

  Dreams of having kids and a family, the two things he’d been deprived of growing up, didn’t seem impossible then. But that was before his wife had betrayed him. And before those he’d thought were his family, set him up to take the fall for some bad deals and his life had been ripped out from under him.

  Keeping a cool face now, and trying his damndest not to glower after the madness of this morning, Gunner nodded at the man who had dragged him here to do his dirty work. Pampered was the word Gunner would use to describe the man standing on the opposite side of the long mahogany table piled high with manila folders. So pampered he’d flown in complete strangers to repair his father’s dirty deeds so he wouldn’t have to.

  Gunner wanted to slap Marc upside the head at his carelessness. Anton and himself weren’t corrupt, but Marc had no idea. If he’d contacted any other Caliendo, Anton’s brother Tito, or his idiotic sons, for example, this scenario would have played out much differently. Luckily, Tito had died in the last year and Anton said he’d been working at keeping the brothers and the rest of the ruthless mob at bay.

  The family didn’t let eyewitnesses walk and the files stashed away in the cabinets along the walls of the library’s basement were records of confidential information. Having yet to even open a file, the possibilities of the contents seemed endless. Gunner would bet his life Marc’s uncle didn’t want a member outside his tight-knit family reading the pages they were about to dive into. The fact Marc didn’t know that illustrated his coddled upbringing.

  “We are willing to go through the files as long as a Caliendo is present to observe our findings and activities, like we agreed over the phone,” Anton said.

  Marc nodded. “I understand and I have cleared my schedule for the week.”

  Marc’s phone vibrated and he pulled it out, checking the screen. “Do you mind? I have to take this.”

  When he’d moved far enough away, Gunner whispered to Anton, “Why do we want someone hanging over our every move?”

  Anton’s forehead formed a wave of wrinkles as he perched up his eyebrows. “Do you have something to hide, boy?” He spoke in hushed Italian. Gunner reciprocated in kind.

  “No.” Anton knew all his secrets. “But I also don’t like hanging out with strangers.”

  “They’re family.”

  It was Gunner’s turn to raise his eyebrows. “I don’t have family, remember? The last people I called family set me up and planned on putting me behind bars for a lifetime.”

  “A lifetime would have been too long. They would’ve killed you before you had the chance to testify.” They almost had. For a conversation regarding slaughtering people, Anton’s casual tone sounded like they were discussing puppy dogs and kittens.

  “That’s not reassuring.”

  “Has living alone made you so wimpy you need my reassurance?”

  “I would like to know why you agreed to this.”

  Anton’s eyes coldly trailed to where Marc had disappeared up the stairs and into the main library. “Does it matter?” he asked, turning back to Gunner. “Does it make a difference what my intentions are, if, in the end, you get what I promised?” He stepped closer. “Your freedom. Isn’t that why you’re here?”

  “Anton, you’ve always been upfront with me, but I get the feeling there’s more to this than helping your long lost family.”

  “Didn’t sticking your nose where it didn’t belong get you into trouble in the first place?”

  Gunner folded his arms across his chest. “Trusting the wrong people landed me in trouble. I won’t make that mistake twice.”

  Anton slapped Gunner’s bicep, gripping it as he said, “We both know you trust me with your life, so stop fretting about things that don’t concern you.”

  Anton said no more and Gunner finished prying as Marc skipped down the stairs with his fingers busy on his phone screen like Izzy earlier. Gunner had forgotten how dependable people were on their phones. A bad habit he’d long given up, along with his sophisticated life. But like Anton said, this small job would give him freedom and he’d do anything to have a cold beer in a bar and not worry about being targeted.

  “I’m sorry, something’s come up and I have to go.”

  Anton huffed out a few curses in Italian.

  Marc held up his hands. “I’m making arrangements to get someone here. Now.” He turned, pacing the length of the dingy basement, stopping at one of the old rolling office chairs and gripping the wood back. “Melissa, find me Izzy. Right away.”

  Chapter Four

  “IS YOUR ATTIRE even considered swimwear?” A shadow fell across Izzy, as darkening as the person blocking the warm beam she had been sunbathing beneath. “Or appropriate for a family resort?”

  Izzy tore her eyes away from the man-candy stretched out for miles along the beach. Bronzed and muscular, mind-blowing male specimens. Man-candy lounging in chairs, man-candy hammering volleyballs, man-candy chucking horse shoes and man-candy strolling along the shoreline, water drenching and dripping down their exquisite six-pack abs.

  This had been how she’d played her day out in her head, not being flung into a pool by a stranger and without shared lust or desire, or any promise of wild pool sex to follow.

  She slid the sunglasses down her nose, glaring up at her brother’s prissy secretary. Melissa Carter looked less impressed about disturbing Izzy than Izzy felt having her satisfying afternoon of man-candy watching interrupted. Melissa rarely ventured outside of her cool and secluded office.

  “Why don’t you grab a bikini and join me?” Izzy teased, knowing stuck-up Melissa would never wander the resort wearing her bikini or willingly interact with Izzy...which made her wonder why Melissa had scoped her out now in the first place. She’d find the answer out soon enough, right now she wanted to play. “There’s a good lineup of eye worthy males today.” Izzy wiggled her eyebrows and licked her lips.

  Melissa remained stoic. Not a flinch, a glare, or even a twitch of her lip. Dead stoic.

  “More than usual and I’m even thinking a couple of these hotties are single.” Not that Izzy would ever sleep with a guest. But what did looking, ogling, or drooling over these heart throbs hurt? Certainly not their egos. She’d had her fair share of flirting this afternoon, an improvement over arguing with the rude guest staying in her wing. For disliking Gunner with a passion, the repetition of him popping into her head and dragging her thoughts away from the available man-candy begging for her attention aggravated her.

  Melissa’s eyes didn’t roam the premises with Izzy’s. Clasping her iPad in both hands against her navy, sleeveless, pencil-line dress, she grimly replied, “I’d rather permanently lose my eyesight than sit out here with you and pretend I
like you, or can even stand you.”

  Izzy sighed on the outside, but snickered on the inside, enjoying the banter.

  She slipped her sunglasses back up her nose, stretched out on the lounger, and crossed her ankles, wiggling her recently painted turquoise toes. “Then what’s this visit all about? Simply to insult my bikini? Or did you miss me?” Izzy looked back at the bland woman, the excitement in her tone rising. “You missed me, didn’t you? Awe, that’s so sweet. I’m blushing. I know you can’t tell because I’m sun-kissed, but honestly, I’m blushing inside and out.”

  “You’re burning. Bright red like an apple before it rots.”

  “You missed all the fun we had on the cruise and you’re looking to re-spark those entertaining nights. The drinking and dancing...”

  At the mention of their vacation, Melissa’s body stiffened. Her lips thinned into a line of impatience and her knuckles turned a shade lighter than her porcelain skin. It was the most reaction one would ever hope to receive from her. Izzy honestly couldn’t tell if she’d sincerely disliked the Cohen Cruise they’d taken with Izzy’s sister, Emma or if she simply couldn’t get past her snotty attitude to admit she’d had fun. Although, in general, Melissa’s fun often began after a few shots and finished with drinking like a sailor.

  “What you refer to as ‘fun,’ I call insufferable.” Again, even though Izzy heard the words, they didn’t convince her one way or the other.

  “Let loose, Melissa.” Izzy reached out and pinched her leg, getting an ungrateful swat. Izzy laughed. “Have fun. Smile, dance and live. I bet you haven’t lived like that in, well, like, forever.” Izzy gaped up at her. “We popped your fun-cherry, didn’t we? And now you’re desperate to get it back, but at the same time, it just felt so darn good.”

  “Why are you even out here? You have a perfectly adequate private pool at your fingertips and yet, here you are, mingling with the tourists.” Melissa’s distaste amused Izzy almost as much as her change of topic.

  “I would think it’s obvious.” She began pointing across the beach. “Blue board shorts there, and yellow shorts there, and you couldn’t have seen red shorts over there or you wouldn’t have asked such a stupid question. I don’t have these perks at the suite.”

  But it wasn’t these men Izzy thought about, either. Only one man currently stuck in her head and she hadn’t even seen him in shorts. Not that it was necessary after feeling his hard torso when she’d failed at pushing him into the water.

  Izzy pointed at black board shorts by the bar. “He’s a mysterious package that could help you relax—” The woman next to him leaned in for a kiss. “Nope, taken, but isn’t that the way you like them?”

  Melissa bent down, and gripped Izzy’s upper arm. “I don’t have time for this,” she snarled. “Let’s go. Marc wants to talk to you and, quite frankly, I’ve had enough talking to you.” She yanked on her. “I don’t like Violet, but I agree with her, you’re in dire need of a filter.”

  “Why?”

  “You ask too many questions and talk too freely.”

  Izzy rolled her eyes. “Why does Marc want to see me?” Her anger hadn’t cooled down with him yet.

  “I didn’t care enough to inquire.”

  Izzy stood, freeing her arm and smirking.

  “Next time carry your cell phone with you.” Melissa said through gritted teeth but in such a way her appearance remained classy. She turned on her heel back in the direction of the resort.

  Izzy grabbed her white cover up and followed behind. Now all of a sudden Marc wanted her? Why? He never wanted her.

  They weaved their way passed private cabanas and masses of open lounge chairs, over bridges crossing above winding pools—there wasn’t an available seat in sight with even the bars located at each pool littering a lineup—and then across the marble floors of the resort.

  Melissa’s quick steps guided them straight to the Caliendo wing and into the family’s personal library.

  “You want to read me an afternoon story?” Izzy asked.

  “Somewhere deep down inside, you know that wasn’t clever,” Melissa said.

  “Somewhere deep down inside, you know your condescending doesn’t bother me. If anything, it only triggers me.”

  Melissa held the door open for her. “Marc is inside and he would like to speak with you.”

  Izzy glanced through the opening. The spectacularly designed space held an encasement of floor-to-ceiling bookcases filled with books. A metal track ran along the upper edge of the bookcases connected to a ten-foot-tall wood ladder which traveled the perimeter, allowing its conductor access to the many new and old titles available. Leather wing-back chairs sat clustered together on thick oriental rugs beside tables lit by brass reading lamps, offering a wonderful sitting area to read your selection.

  A reader’s paradise.

  Izzy Caliendo had been in the library a total of two times, and today accounted for one of those times. Today she wasn’t alone. “Looks like he’s not the only one.”

  Melissa’s humourless gaze looked inside the full room. Izzy could feel the heated annoyance radiating from Marc’s assistant at the sight of Izzy’s three sisters and sister-in-law all crammed curiously together in what appeared to be another secret entrance in the Caliendo wing.

  Izzy caught Melissa’s mouth slightly drop at the sight. A secret door should be shocking. A secret door was shocking and yet it didn’t faze Izzy.

  Robert, the man who’d raised Izzy as his daughter while her mom had been having an affair with Izzy’s real father, had built secret entrances and tunnels throughout and under the wing of their living space. The secret spaces had only been discovered by the family after Robert died. Across the hall in what had once been his office, they’d found a secret office behind a wall, and now, in the library, a bookcase had been pulled open to reveal another entry. Izzy couldn’t see past her sister’s to what lay beyond.

  “It’s called a secret door,” Izzy said, stepping up beside Melissa. “Didn’t you know about them?” Melissa made it a point to know everything—her ears were everywhere, her knowledge abundant.

  Melissa’s head whipped to face her. “Them?”

  “You really didn’t know?”

  Melissa stared at her, offering no reply.

  “I bet your dad has a few of these around his house.” Following in his father’s footsteps, and his grandfather’s before him, Melissa’s dad had stepped straight into position as the mayor of Willow Valley as if it belonged to the Carters. They’d been in position for as long as this town could remember. Year after year, the town voted for the running Carter...or so the ballots said. Izzy, and likely more than half the town, suspected those votes had been bought. Most people didn’t like the mayor or what he represented, but few would admit it. The same had gone for Robert. No one liked him, but everyone owed him enough to fake pleasant association.

  Melissa leaned closer, her designer perfume clouding Izzy’s space. “Not all men in high places are as shady and corrupt as your father—sorry, your uncle—was.”

  “It’s not an insult since Carl’s a better father than Robert ever was.”

  A patronizing smile lifted the corners of Melissa’s lips. “And still, your relationship with Carl has never been rockier.”

  Rage pulsed fire through Izzy’s veins. Melissa could talk a lot of shit about Izzy, but her father was off limits. She leaned in until their noses almost touched, her coconut scented lotion slapping Melissa’s perfume away. “Speaking of rocky, how have you been getting along with your boss’s wife? You know, after attempting to rip them apart for your own selfish wants...or needs. Needs that have never been addressed. Needs that make me wonder how many covert rooms you have and exactly what secrets you hide in them? You’re playing two sides of a dangerous game, deary.”

  “You haven’t seen dangerous. Once I pop your pampered, spoiled bubble—”

  “You couldn’t have worked cherry in there?” Izzy straightened, bored with the threatening fight.
“It would have lightened the mood. I popped your fun-cherry and you pop my spoiled, cherry—”

  “Prime example of what I’m referring to and why Marc called you here. All fun and games for Izzy, until you understand exactly what secret doors like that mean.”

  A throat cleared beside them. “What exactly do secret doors like that mean?” Kate, Marc’s wife and Melissa’s rival, stood with arms folded over her floral dress, lips pursed, and her brown eyes as darkened as her mood, waiting for an answer.

  Menacing Melissa turned all her attention to her enemy. Silently, a heated war engaged between the two women. Hostile stares, intimidating posture...Izzy would bet if she stuck her hand between them her flesh would char from the high heat emanating between them.

  Melissa’s haughty tone didn’t help and neither did her next sentence. “They mean paternity tests are revealed.”

  Kate’s eyes flew open at the mention of her private file. It had contained all the missing information Kate needed to find her and Marc’s lovechild—a child Marc had known nothing about and Kate had been forced to give up. With a big heart, Izzy had always considered Kate family and Melissa’s words stung Izzy as much as they probably did her sister-in-law. The battle between these two women was long overdue and Melissa deserved a punch or two. Izzy wished she had a bag of popcorn and soda to watch this fight.

  She stepped aside, giving them space to hash out their differences, but her sister, Emma stepped between the two ladies, dowsing the fire.

  Emma and Melissa were best friends. Why? Who knew? They were polar opposites. Melissa was stuck up, whereas Emma was sweet like the cute little mint-green colored, polka-dot dress she wore gathered in the middle with a large bow-shaped belt. Together...a match made to perfection.

  Emma pointed at her best friend and shook her head. “Melissa, not appropriate and not at all nice.” She turned to her sister-in-law. “Kate, your past is a fact and no longer a secret. The entire town is aware of Rosemary. Both of you—” her head looked between them. “—get over it and move on.”