Page 21 of The Hottest Daddy
Sunday looked at Carmen. “Angelina’s coming here?”
Carmen nodded. “River called her this afternoon, told her they had to talk. Angelina invited herself. She’ll be here for the weekend.”
Sunday felt a lurch of unease. A piece of her own New York history coming here, to her safe haven? Would Angelina recognize her? “The weekend? Damn it, I can’t be here.” She would make up some excuse to be away, not to risk her identity being found out.Damn it all to hell … why now?When River needed her so badly?
Carmen shook her head. “It’s okay. I doubt she’ll stay long when she hears what River has to say.” She cut her eyes to Berry and said no more. Sunday nodded, but sighed inwardly.
She was still thinking about her last meeting with the Upper East Side charity maven. Sunday—or rather, Marley—had been looking into a pyramid scheme that had been operating in the highest of New York’s society and had taken a call from Angelina, who invited her to interview her about a charity cotillion she was hosting.
The interview turned out to be little more than a guarded threat—shut your mouth about the pyramid scheme or I’ll ruin your career.Sunday hadn’t backed down and had run the piece anyway, albeit mentioning no names. Angelina had been furious and had done everything in her power to ruin Sunday’s career … and had failed.
In the end, though, the small scandal hadn’t affected Angelina’s machinations one iota. She still portrayed herself as a victim in every situation and traded on her fading good looks, not wanting to admit there were younger, more beautiful women in her circle, waiting to take her place.
Sunday had always regarded her as kind of pathetic but now that she knew the depths of her evil, she wished she had gone all in on her.
“Too late now.” Sunday finished up her work and went home for the night.
At home, she dug out the burner phone and called Sam, telling him about the Angelina situation. “The problem is,” she told him, “I want to be there for River and Berry, but the thought of her recognizing me …”
“I understand. Look, yeah, it’s a concern, but wasn’t this a few years ago? Do you think she’d recognize you?”
Sunday stared at her reflection in the window and was suddenly unsure. She looked so different … would Angelina know her? “I don’t know.”
“Maybe hiding away when you’re obviously connected to the family would be more conspicuous,” Sam said kindly. “And of course, we don’t know that even if she identified you, it would make a difference. I say keep things as normal as possible.”
“Sam?”
“Yes, Sunday?”
She hesitated for a moment. “Are you any closer to finding out who he is? The man who shot me and killed Cory?”
“No, sweetheart, I’m sorry. He’ll obviously know by now that you’ve left your old life, but whoever he is, he’s careful.”
“I just wish I knew what he looked like or who he was. It’s bad enough knowing someone wants to kill me, let alone not knowing who or why.”
“Sometimes these things are so out of left field. You did the best thing, letting us move you away from New York.”
“I never thought I would say this but yes. Weirdly, I feel like I have a life here now.”
Sam chuckled. “Well, that’s good news.”
Sunday didn’t tell him that she and River were in the beginnings of a relationship. For one thing, she didn’t know what was going to happen now. She found she couldn’t sleep and looked out of her window to see if Daisy’s coffeehouse was still open.
A warm light glowed from within. Sunday threw her jacket over her sweats and went across. Daisy wasn’t working, instead her barista, George, was on duty. Sunday didn’t know him as well so she grabbed her coffee and went to find a seat.
The coffeehouse was almost empty at midnight. An elderly woman nodded politely at Sunday as she sat down. Sunday sipped her coffee, trying to calm her mind from its state of turmoil. The main thing was to support River and Berry through this crisis … nothing else mattered.
She heard the bell jangle at the door and looked up to see a young man enter. He was tall, olive-skinned, and had a shock of dark curls. He smiled at her, his dark brown eyes merry, and then headed for the counter. Sunday looked away, not wanting to intrude, but then she heard him say hello. “Mind if I sit? I’ve been driving all day on my own and I could do with some company.”
“Not at all.”
She guessed he was around the same age as her, late twenties, and he had a joyful, fun-loving demeanor. He was a flirt, too, and he made her giggle as he introduced himself. “Tony Marchand,” he said, shaking her hand. “All the way from Seattle, Washington.”
“What brings you to our little town, Tony?”
“Snowboarding,” he said. “I heard the ski place here was second to none so I thought I’d come see if they needed any help.”
“It’s the end of the season, almost.”
