Chapter Nine

But the next day, when Sunday drove up to the Castle, she felt the change in mood immediately. Walking into the kitchen, she saw Carmen alone, her face grim. “What’s going on?”

“Angelina Marshall. She’s suing River for custody of Berry.”

“What the fuck?” Sunday was immediately angry. “How does she even know Berry exists?”

Carmen sighed and indicated Sunday should sit. “Apparently she knew even before River did. From what we can tell, she’s been stalking every girlfriend that River had, even down to the one-night stands. That included Lindsay. River’s never talked to his girlfriends about what Angelina did and so, apparently, Lindsay thought nothing of it when Angelina contacted her.”

Carmen rubbed her face, looking tired. “She was playing the dutiful grandmother for years, without River’s knowledge. When she found out Lindsay died …”

“That bitch,” Sunday hissed, her heart breaking for River.

Carmen nodded. “Of course, she played the selfless grandmother figure to Berry, so the child doesn’t know that she’s an evil succubus. River is beside himself.”

“I should go find him.”

“Please,” Carmen patted her hand. “He’s been in such a funk this morning. I can’t reach him.”

Sunday made her way slowly to River’s studio—a room she had never been in—and hoped he wouldn’t think she was intruding. She knocked. “Come in.”

She slipped inside and was assailed by glorious color. Vast canvases with vibrant pinks, reds, green, golden yellows and deep, ocean blues. She gasped a little, taken aback by the beauty of them. “Oh, River …”

He was sitting, gazing out of the window and when he looked at her, she saw the raw pain in his face. She went to him and wrapped her arms around him. He buried his face in her neck, his arms tight around her. They said nothing for the longest time, just held each other. Sunday felt tears in her eyes. She couldn’t comprehend what was going around River’s head. To potentially lose his daughter to his abuser? It was unfathomable.

Eventually River pulled away. “Thank you for coming,” he said in a low voice. “You seem to know instinctively that I needed you. That means a lot.”

She stroked his face. “Tell me everything.”

River squeezed his eyes shut. “Baby, as much as I want to … I can’t. What happened between Angelina and myself? It’s too much. It’s horrifying. All I want to do is keep Berry safe from that woman.”

“But you have to face what she did to you sometime, River. Deal with it. Until you do, she’ll always have this hold over you.”

River shook his head. “No.”

Sunday drew in a deep breath. “You know I’m with you, right? For whatever you need. But I’m not going to be an enabler. You need to deal with—”

“What would you know about it?” His outburst shocked her and she saw the depth of his agony. She touched his face.

“I can’t know, River. But I’ve been in situations where I felt helpless. I’m just saying … to be at your strongest, maybe it’s time.”

River looked away from her. “I can’t.” Barely a whisper.

“Jesus, River … what did she do to you?”

But he said nothing. Eventually Sunday gave up, and standing, she touched his shoulder. “I’ll leave you alone. Just know I’m here for whatever you need.”

As she reached the door of his study, she heard him call her name. “I’m sorry I snapped at you, Sunday.”

“It’s okay. I’ll see you later.”

At suppertime, she joined Carmen and Berry in the kitchen. To her relief, Berry seemed unaffected by the somber mood of the house, climbing onto Sunday’s lap and talking excitedly about her ‘Nanna’ coming to see her.

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.”

Tony shrugged. “I know, but I thought I’d risk it. If not, I’ll work anywhere. I just needed to get away.”

“Bad breakup?” She guessed and he laughed, coloring a little.

“You saw right through me. Were you born here?”

She shook her head. “No, California. I moved here a few months back.”

“Friendly town?”

Sunday nodded. “Very. I’m sure you won’t have any trouble fitting in.”

“Hey, did I hear River Giotto lives here? The artist? Man, his work … it’s sublime. When I was surfing last year, there was a guy with some of Giotto’s work on his board. Man, I wanted that board.”

Sunday smiled at him. “Yes, River lives here, but he’s kind of reclusive.”

“You know him?”

And how … “I work for him.”

“Damn, you’re the person to know.” He looked at her admiringly. “And, if it isn’t creepy to say, you’re really hot.”

Sunday chuckled. “Thank you, that’s sweet, but I’m kind of seeing someone.”

“Just my luck.”

“Where are you staying?”

“Out at the Cadillac Motel, on the highway. It’s pretty clean, and cheap.”

Sunday nodded. “Well, what I’ve learned is that this place is pretty much the hub of town. You need contacts, ask around in here.”

“I will, thanks.”

They spoke for a few more minutes, then Sunday said goodbye. She walked back over to her apartment and up the stairs. She almost shrieked with shock when a figure appeared out of the darkness.

River.

“God, you scared me,” she said, half-laughing, half-pissed, but River didn’t smile.

“I’m sorry. I just had to see you so I came into town. Who was the guy?”

Ah. “Some dude who’s new in town. He just wanted some advice on jobs.”

“And he asked you?”

Sunday was a little irked by River’s tone. “Well, I suppose he asked whoever was around. That being me. Do you want to come in?”

She unlocked her door and River followed her in. He seemed on edge, and for the first time, Sunday wondered if he had taken something. She made him look at her. No. He wasn’t high, he was just distressed. “River … I was just talking to the guy. I even told him I wasn’t available, if that makes you feel better.”

River sat down on her couch and she sat by him. “Is it this thing with Angelina?”

He nodded. “I just … I wanted to forget for a night. Carmel is back at the Castle. She said she’d stay with Berry tonight.”

Sunday took his hand. “Come lie down with me.”

He was still tense, even as she slowly undressed him. She pressed her lips to his, running her hand over his bare chest. “Touch me, River.”

He slid his hands down her waist, his fingers moving to the zipper of her jeans. She stepped out of them and pulled him down onto the bed. She tangled her fingers in his dark curls as they kissed, then, as River moved his body on top of hers, she heard him whisper, “Are you mine?”

She nodded, meeting his gaze. “I am. I’m yours, River.”

They took their time, which was unusual for them. Usually, an animal fire overtook their lovemaking, but tonight, it was more about discovery. In essence, she knew, they were still strangers, but tonight it seemed as if River was trying to give more of himself to her, even if he couldn’t tell her about his past.

He trailed his fingers down her belly, stopping at the small scar at the side of her navel. “What’s this?”

“You didn’t see it before?” She played for time, knowing that if she lied, he’d know.

River waited, the look in his eyes telling her that this was an important moment. Sunday drew in a deep breath. “I was shot. Last year. When I told you my fiancé was hit by a car, that was a lie. He was shot too. He died.”

River sat up. “Jesus. Jesus, Sunday …”

Sunday sat up. “When I told you about the stalker … it was him. Or someone he sent to kill us. The thing is … there is more. But if I trust you with the information, it could mean he finds me.”

River ran his hand through his hair. “I won’t let anyone hurt you, Sunday. Ever.”

“And I won’t let Angelina Marshall hurt you or take Berry. But, River, if we’re going to trust each other, if this is going to work between us … you have to tell me what she did to you.”

He stared at her for a long time, then, almost imperceptibly, he nodded. “Okay. Okay …”

And for the next two hours, River Giotto told her everything.