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Donato inhaled sharply. “Joe Alvarez,” he finally relented on a sigh.
“I’ll get you out of this,” I vowed. And I would. I owed it to Donato. I just thought I’d have more time before I had to pay up.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Vivian
Eight Years Earlier
Daniel loadedup the back of the SUV with our luggage while I did a final sweep of the condo to make sure we hadn’t left anything behind. He was just closing the hatch when I came out the front door.
“I’m going to miss this place,” I said, looking back at the structure with longing as he held open my car door for me.
“I enjoyed it myself,” he said before securing me inside. I smirked to myself thinking of his kisses last night after we’d returned. He’d enjoyed more than the condo. We both had.
I dropped my purse on the floorboard and buckled my seatbelt while he jogged around to his side. “It’s a big day,” he said when he’d slid into the driver’s seat.
“Christmas Eve,” I all but shrieked, and he gave me a taken aback look. “It’s my favorite day of the year.”
“Why?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I just always liked it.”
“Better than Christmas?” he asked incredulously.
“Better than Christmas,” I confirmed. “I think it’s the anticipation.”
Daniel seemed to soak in that nugget of information and then reached for my purse, rummaging through it until he produced the Madonna CD.
“Are you feeling all right?” I asked, holding my hand to his forehead as if testing his temperature.
He popped the disc into the player. “Should I go back to being an asshole? I’m very good at that.”
“You’re going to have a hard time selling me on that one, Princess,” I said, eliciting his knee-jerk shake of the head.
“You ready?” he asked, seeming almost as excited as I felt. I loved this animated side of him, and I was bound and determined to figure out how to keep him that way most of the time.
“Let’s go.” I fist-pumped the air, making him laugh as he backed out. “Goodbye, Queenstown. But not forever.” I waved to the lake and the town as we passed through, resuming our journey.
It wasmid-afternoon when I saw it: my mountain, up ahead in all its glory. The sky was overcast, but it didn’t ruin the view. I grabbed the picture from my purse, unfolded it, and held it up to the windshield. A perfect match.
“Stop the car,” I commanded and then added, “Please.”
Daniel pulled over, and I leapt out, rushing around to the front of the car. I clicked picture after picture while Daniel leaned against the hood, one leg crossed in front of the other, his aviator sunglasses shielding his eyes.
“It’s magnificent. So much better in person,” I said. “Will you take my picture, please?” I held out the camera and he took it, our fingers brushing during the exchange.
I posed, and he played photographer. “Take off your sunglasses,” he said.
I flagged down an approaching car, and it rolled to a stop behind us. A man in jeans, a T-shirt, and a baseball cap climbed out.
“You having a bit of car trouble?” he asked, appearing friendly enough.
“I’m sorry to trouble you, but would you mind taking our picture?” I gave him my super bright smile, and he beamed back.
“Sure. You two on holiday?”
“We are. Thanks so much for doing this,” I said, taking Daniel’s sunglasses off. He slipped an arm around me, and I leaned into him, sneaking my arm around his waist.
