Red Skies: Miami's Danes - Sexy Suspense Series, #3

By Kristyn Kohl

Who knew following in your mother's footsteps could be so dangerous…

Just like her famous mother Adria Farris Dane, Kelsi has found her calling as the lead investigative reporter for the prized Miami Tribune.  And just like her mother, Kelsi's calling has plunged her into the most dangerous adventure of her life. She's about to experience everything from murder in Miami to a mysterious criminal enterprise in Ecuador.

But she won't go through it alone.

Trey Lamont turned down a professional baseball career to follow in his father's law enforcement footsteps. Today, he uses that background to run Miami's most prestigious security firm.

His newest client? Kelsi Dane.

After an encounter with a mysterious stranger, Kelsi turns to Trey for help. But as far as Trey is concerned, his assistance is only the beginning. Kelsi is the perfect woman, and he intends to have her in every way possible. 

Never has seduction been more dangerous. Kelsi has been marked for murder, but Trey has no intention of leaving her side -- or her bed. 

Once you see the jaw-dropping cliffhanger end to this thrilling romance, you'll want to dive right into the last book in this series, Sailors' Delight.

Grab your copy of Red Skies and experience all of the steamy suspense today!

This book contains explicit love scenes and adult situations, so it's best-suited for readers who are 18+.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Premier Content Source, Inc.
• Release date: Oct 15, 2016
• ISBN: 9781536526325

Book preview

Chapter 1

"You were great! 

Kelsi Dane deeply respected State Wide Prosecutor Dean Bryson.  She'd known him for years - since high school.  They continued on together to the University of Miami Law School.  He had given her a run for it.  Kelsi had to work hard to beat out Dean.  But she had.  She was number one in her class - Dean was a close second.

Though they rarely spent time together, they had always stayed in touch.  Dean was a true friend.  No matter where they left off, or for how long, there was always a comfortable trust between them.

Kelsi had known for years that Dean wanted her.  Not just as a friend.  But as handsome and as desirable as Dean was, Kelsi had always loved Brock.  Brock Hunter.  Sexy.  Smart.  Bad boy.  And he had broken her heart.

Be careful what you ask for, Kelsi.

Why thank you, Dean.  That means a lot coming from you.

Does it, Kelsi?

You know it does.  Plus, I'm excited about what you're doing.  I had no idea eight months ago that my insurance fraud series would eventually inspire the State Wide Prosecutor.

Inspire!  My sources tell me you're on your way to a Pulitzer.  Kelsi, you're a one woman wonder - and I mean that respectively, my love.  Not to mention the fact that you're the best investigative reporter the Miami Tribune has ever seen.

Phooey the Pulitzer.  I'm honored to be a part of what you're doing.  If my testimony before your Grand Jury can provoke change in the legislature, then we have both done our jobs.  The people of Florida deserve better than a loophole law that allows bogus doctors, disreputable attorneys, and seedy clinics to manipulate millions of dollars in staged accidents.

That's what I love most about you, Kelsi.  Your integrity.  You could care less about your personal motives.  You have no fear of taking on Miami's biggest challenges.  I guess that's what makes you a Dane.

Kelsi knew well how her headstrong ambitions defined her.  And she was proud of it.  She'd been blessed.  Dane Law was the most respected law firm in Miami - and had been for almost a century.  Her father, Conrad, and her brother Jonathan were the third and fourth generation icons of the renowned firm.  Sure, Kelsi had been given that chance.  But she really had no love for practicing law.  Too restrictive.  Too predictable

Kelsi, are you still with me?  I am singing your praises ...

And I'd better take advantage of that while I can, right Dean! 

Dean laughed and squeezed her hand.  You can take advantage of me whenever you want to, Kelsi.  But that's for another day.

Kelsi blushed.  Her golden hair glistened in the Miami sun.  If only things had been different.  But it was too late to turn back.  Dean was a dear friend -nothing more.  Kelsi tossed her hair out of her eyes, covered her huge green eyes with her Gucci sunglasses, and squeezed Dean's hand with a warm goodbye.

Kelsi walked briskly across the marble veranda of the Miami Dade Courthouse.  It was almost 5 o'clock.  So much for a trip back to the Tribune.  Kelsi was exhausted.  Her testimony had lasted most of the day.  It had been eight months since she broke the story, but every detail was vivid.  Staged accident rings were nothing new to Miami.  And as far as Kelsi was concerned, the law - not to mention the insurance companies - encouraged what had indeed become an epidemic.  Talk was cheap. 

Sure, everybody professed that they wanted to do something to reign in the phony clinics.  The unscrupulous doctors and lawyers that had made millions.  And for their part, the insurance companies responded with higher and higher rates. Not to mention that no one seemed to care that boatloads of desperate Haitian refugees - most of whom had been convinced that the streets of Miami were lined with gold - were the perfect patsies.  The perfect victims.  It all made Kelsi's blood boil.

Talk, lobbies and politics.  Welcome to Florida.

Welcome, that is, until it all went violently off script.  The images were still seared in Kelsi's mind.  The young girl, sobbing hysterically for her lifeless mother.  A child's mother dead for accepting $500 to claim injury.  The doctors and the lawyers would make a killing.  Only this time it had been real.  There was a killing.

Who knew the mother had no license.  That she would not be able to maneuver her way around the car that suddenly and intentionally veered into her path.  It was supposed to be a simple fender bender.  Only now, there was a child, an orphan in a strange foreign land - alone. 

It was more than scandalous.  It was personal.  Kelsi was once that little girl.  Kelsi had seen her own mother die in a murky canal that fateful day sixteen years before.  Forever, she and that little Haitian girl would share a bond that escapes words.

What they did not share was power.  Kelsi had her family and the entire might of Dane Law and Farris Publishing to nurture her.  The tiny child from a foreign land had no one - except Kelsi. 

And so, six months later Kelsi broke the story.  The rich doctors, the arrogant lawyers, the slimy clinic owners, the human smugglers.  One by one, piece by piece, Kelsi's story took them apart.  And now, eight months later, the power block had finally decided that something had to be done.

Kelsi snapped back to the present.  What was it?  Something wasn't right.  Kelsi had a sense that someone was following her, pursuing her.  She wasn't a stranger to that fear.  Between her family and her editor, someone always seemed to be warning her.  Much to their frustration, Kelsi was too obstinate to be concerned with warnings.

Prudence, on the other hand, was another matter.  And right now Kelsi felt it prudent to react to her heightened senses.

Kelsi ducked behind one of the lofty Greek columns that adorned the Miami-Dade Courthouse.  She stopped, looked.  Nothing but a sea of lawyer types.  All carrying briefcases, talking on smart phones.  Each one of them busy - or at least appearing to be.  She grinned, isn't that what lawyers are supposed to do?  Look busy and important!

She peered from behind a pillar. No one was there.  At least no one that was following her.  Kelsi had to be imagining things.  She paused to convince herself.  It had been a very emotional day.  Enough.

Kelsi ran down the marble steps.  It was 5 PM.  There was gridlock at the crosswalk.  Would the light ever turn?  But then again, she sensed it.  There was someone watching her.  Someone who was stealth. 

Lost in the crowd, Kelsi turned again.  She searched in vain.  Her mind raced, now I really am losing my mind.  Time to go home and relax with a serious glass of Merlot.  Kelsi ran to her BMW and fled south on the expressway, but not without seriously checking the rear view mirror.

Chapter 2

Kelsi poured herself a glass of her favorite Merlot and settled in the living room of her waterfront penthouse.  As much as she loved the oversized private balcony, the humidity was too much to bear. 

No matter how tired or stressed, or alone, Kelsi's penthouse was her retreat.  She settled herself down on the cushy white sofa and made a valiant attempt to unwind.

It was twilight in Miami.  Light enough to see the boats heading in to the Coral Gables Waterway.  Nestled in a lagoon to the southeast of the waterway, the lights from Coco Plum Yacht Club sparkled in the distance.  The Spanish arches of the club house were alight with a brilliant red glow marking the way for returning seafarers. 

Red sky at night, sailor's delight.

Beneath the majesty of the arches, Kelsi turned to admire the sleek lines of her beloved thirty-three foot Hunter sailboat, Destiny.  Gently bobbing in the protected waters, Destiny called to her.  No one would understand, would they Destiny ... The bond between us is strong and silent. 

As the sun set and the lights twinkled, Kelsi reflected on her personal destiny.  She knew she was blessed.  Between Dane Law and her vast inheritance from her mother's Farris Publishing, Kelsi was a woman of great wealth.  But with fortune came responsibility.  Recalling her earliest memories, Kelsi respected that she and her siblings had been taught to use their resources to make the community a better place.

From their mother's foundation to her father's renowned philanthropic leadership, the Dane's had led with action.  And so the mantle had passed to the next generation.  Her brothers Jonathan and Cody and sister Bailey were leaders in their own right.  God, she loved them. 

But more than anyone, Kelsi had been deeply inspired by her mother.  Indeed it was her mother who had encouraged her to follow her dreams.  And, like her mother, that dream was to write.  And so, despite her father's desires that she practice at Dane Law, Kelsi had turned to journalism.  Long ago Kelsi was determined to serve her community through her words - and through her actions.  Miami had blessed the Danes and the Farris's.  Now it was Kelsi's turn to give back.

Kelsi's thoughts drifted back to her testimony before the grand jury.  She was on the cusp of achieving her goals.  With the notable exception of Haroldo Legarda, the human smuggler who had run off on his two million dollar bond, each and every person charged in the conspiracy case had been convicted and imprisoned.  This was quite an achievement, since most of the witnesses were Haitian illegals who were too afraid of any authority figure to appear in court.  Nonetheless, Kelsi liked to think that their lives were better off now that the plunderers who brought them into the country were in prison.  All, that is, except Legarda.  But since Legarda had obviously long fled Miami, what harm could he cause them now?

Kelsi's testimony had reignited Kelsi's longstanding sympathy for the Haitian people.  They were anxious to forge their own identity in Miami.  To realize even a small portion of the American Dream, to own a business, to educate their children.  But their culture often held them back.  They were deathly afraid of government, as they had been in Haiti.  Instead, they too frequently turned to those who would victimize them yet again.  It was a sad, often hopeless cycle.

The Grand Jury testimony had stirred up all of those memories.  Kelsi wiped the tears from her eyes.  That beautiful little child - Tiya Lacoste- had lost her mother.  She had suffered far more than any child deserved.  Privately, Kelsi had kept track of her.  She had been taken in by a Haitian family.  And while they loved her as their own, poverty was a norm in the general Haitian community.  In response, Kelsi had donated a generous scholarship - anonymously - to the Haitian Children's Charity in Tiya's name.  And in the name of the child's mother, Kelsi had set up a separate foundation.  Kelsi took comfort that her own mother, Adria Farris Dane, would be proud.

Kelsi sipped her wine and pondered the significance of her life.  She was far from perfect ... Lord knows Brock had made that perfectly clear...  But was she making a difference?

Kelsi you're far too philosophical.  Let's get back to basics - like it or not - someone was following you today.  And you know it.

Ah, yes.  Kelsi knew better than to try to run from her extra sense as she liked to call it.  Someone was stalking her, and she had to face it. 

But for now, it was Friday.  Time to spend some time alone.  Pain had taught her that she could think more clearly when she was alone.  She had been so alone after the loss her dearest mother.  Then Brock ... it had been almost two years since Brock.

Kelsi knew that when the chips were down, she was her own best protector.  She'd figure this out alone - with Destiny.

Chapter 3

Kelsi arrived in downtown Miami early on Monday morning.  It was a custom she had imposed on herself when she first started as a beat reporter.  She had convinced herself that the sooner she got started on the first day of the week, the more productive she would be.  At least these days, the first day of her work week was Monday.

Not that time made much difference to the hectic pace of the Tribune newsroom.  Reporters clamoring for stories, editors barking orders, phones ringing, photographers scrambling.  Kelsi loved the bedlam.  Her favorite journalism professor had once told her that successful journalists thrive under pressure - the more the better.  How right he was!  To Kelsi pressure was a motivator, not a deterrent.

Still, it appeared that the Miami news cycle was in overdrive this Monday morning.  And after a weekend of splendid solitude aboard Destiny, a hot cup of Café Con Leche was most definitely in order.

Hoping to avoid her editor, Kelsi slipped out the stairs down to the main level and headed for her favorite Cuban coffee shop on the next block.  No one made coffee like the Cubans! 

The walk up counter was a complete mob scene.  No surprise there.  Anyway, Kelsi preferred to cherish every drop of the steamy-hot-milky-excellence outside the confines of the newsroom.

Hello Kelsi.  We have your favorite guava pastries fresh from the oven.  Kelsi loved Mama Louisa. 

I'll splurge!  And a cup of your best Café con Leche.

You go girl!

Moments later, the world was hers.  If Cuban pastry and Cuban coffee can't get you started - nothing will.  Today in particular.  Today was the day to work her sources.  She had to be able to shake something loose.  Someone out there had to know why she was being followed.  She would start with Mitch at Miami-Dade Police.  Could someone be out of jail?  Someone who had an axe to grind?

Her testimony on Friday was confidential.  But ... Her thoughts drifted to that possibility.  Someone knew.  She'd just have to find out who that was.

For now, she would enjoy the bliss of her Cuban breakfast...  And then she saw him!

The man outside the window.  He was staring at her.  She knew him.  From where?  Who was that?  They made eye contact through the window.  And with that he ran.

Kelsi plunked down her money on the table and ran out of the coffee shop.  Love you Mama Louisa!

She had last seen him heading east toward Biscayne Boulevard.  He should be easy to spot in his orange shirt.  Kelsi took off down 1st towards Biscayne.  He couldn't have gone far.  The sidewalk was teaming with pedestrians.

She saw him!  He was almost to Biscayne, but he was stopped at a crosswalk.  She looked directly into his dark brown eyes.  His eyes were wide, his eyebrows raised, his lips tensed.  He stopped dead in his tracks and stared directly at Kelsi.  His body tensed as if he was trying to control his panic.

There was nowhere for him to go.  Kelsi stopped and waited for his next move.  Suddenly a car emerged from a parking lot, tires screeching, horn blowing.  Abruptly the left rear door flung open and a man screamed out, Now!  Now!

Kelsi's pursuer turned towards the car, his body stiffened in fear.  He paused for a few seconds, as if he was debating his next move.  Kelsi stood motionless in stunned silence.  Time seemed almost suspended in the intervening seconds.  Then suddenly the surreal silence was broken by a flood of honking, squealing brakes, and irate drivers screaming more than a few obscenities.  Without a word, the man turned and ran to the car.  The door slammed and the car accelerated south on to Biscayne Blvd and disappeared.

As the car fled, Kelsi was able to read a partial tag number ... U0I.... or maybe UO1.  A maroon Toyota Camry. 

Kelsi paused on the corner, attempting to make sense of what had just happened.  What did he want?  Apparently he did not want to hurt her.  Clearly he was more afraid than he was threatening.  No, he wasn't afraid.  He was terrified.  He needed her help.  That had to be it.  But there was just one problem.  Who was he?  That mystery would be best solved by searching her investigative files.

~

Back in the newsroom, Kelsi was intent.  Right click, right click ... search.  The photo files were endless.  If only she could narrow it down to a particular story.

After about an hour she hit pay dirt!  "Oh my God!  How could I forget his face!  That's him!  Etienne Pomet!

Who is Etienne Pomet?

You startled me!  Good morning, Chandler.  How is the world's best newspaper editor this bright Monday morning?

Kelsi loved her editor, John Chandler.  He tried so hard to be crotchety.  But he had a heart of gold.  He'd been at the Tribune for years - before Farris Publishing sold it to a media group.  Under her mother's guidance as Publisher, Farris would have stayed intact.  Adria Farris Dane would never have sold her family's company.  But after her death, everything had changed. 

Adria had spotted Chandler's talents way back when he was a beat reporter.  Good old Chandler had broken up many a scandal in his day!

Like a true professional, Chandler was never one to favor Kelsi.  He gave her just as hard a time as he did everyone else.  But behind that tough guy façade, Kelsi knew he thought of her as extended family.  And she felt the same about him. 

Etienne Pomet was a witness in my staged accident investigation.  Well, actually, he was involved in one of the so-called accidents, but his pride got in the way.  Despite the fact that the clinic owner was threatening him to cooperate, he chose instead to go to MDPD to report what had occurred.  He fingered the clinic owner, the doctor, his alleged attorney, and Legarda - you remember, the Ecuadorian who was smuggling the Haitians into Miami with promises of endless riches?  Pomet also identified the phantom driver in the event that killed Tiya Lacoste's mother.

And you couldn't recall who he was?

Well, not exactly.  The DA agreed to allow his identity to remain secret.  There was little question that someone would have had him killed had his identity been revealed.  Since they were able to confirm everything he had given them, he never had to appear in the proceedings.  Through a source, he agreed to speak to me anonymously for my story.  I met him just that one time.

So why are you interested in him this morning?

Ah, yes.  Well, I was going to meet with you earlier, but I was ... sidetracked.

I hate those words.  When Kelsi Dane gets sidetracked- on a Monday morning no less - I can only imagine how that is going to impact the city of Miami.

Cute.  Last Friday after my Grand Jury testimony, I had my extra sense that someone was following me.

Ugh.

So I pondered it all weekend, and thought it best to just come in here this morning to reach out to some sources.  But then while I was down at Mama Louisa's I saw Etienne staring at me outside the window at Mama Louisa's and I followed him.

No sooner had Kelsi brought Chandler up to speed with all the details than her phone rang. 

Hold on.  I need to get this.  It's an unknown caller.

Within a matter of seconds, Kelsi put the receiver down.

Kelsi what's wrong?

I'm not sure.  The caller was a man with a Creole accent.  He would only say that I'm in danger - that he needed to meet with me.  And then the line went dead.  It had to be Pomet.  But I have no idea where he is.

Why don't you contact the DA, maybe the lead police investigator.  Maybe they'll have something.  What about your original source?  Have you tried to get a match on the partial tag? 

Like looking for a needle in a haystack.  You know how many Camry's there are in Miami!

Just be careful, Kelsi.

Sure ...

Kelsi spoke to the prosecutor who had tried the cases.  He had an address, but he knew for a fact that Pomet had moved on.  He never stayed in one place for very long.  He was afraid for his family.  As intended, Pomet had covered his tracks.  And it was for certain that no one in the community would break the silence.

The police detective had nothing more.  Same address and an old cell phone number that Pomet had discarded even before trial.  And, with Pomet not having legal paperwork, he was impossible to find in the standard databases.  No arrests, no credit history, no driver's license.  He was invisible.

Last chance was the original source.  Kelsi recalled the woman well.  She was a Haitian woman.  An older woman who knew virtually everything in Little Haiti.  Everyone called her Mamey, grandma.  Her trustworthiness was beyond dispute.  Typically, if the Haitians needed an intermediary, they went through Mamey.

Kelsi searched the Tribune's database for Mamey's contact information.  Kelsi's confidential notes included a phone and address.  But then she saw it.  A news story.  Mamey had been killed three months ago.  A street dealer had been arrested for her murder.  She had been robbed of all her cash, $550.

Kelsi dropped her head onto her keyboard.  No matter how often she was exposed to it, Kelsi could never become detached from the reality of violent crime.  It was compassion - not detachment - that motivated her.

Chapter 4

It was almost 12 noon when Kelsi arrived at the Dane Building.  Her father Conrad had insisted on treating his favorite older daughter to lunch.

Kelsi adored her father.  He was the strongest, most principled man she had ever known.  He had an amazing ability to blend power with principle.  A unique commodity in Miami.  From his philanthropic prowess to his legendary courtroom skills, everyone in Miami knew Conrad Dane.

Conrad was a legend.  A man renowned above all of his peers.  And no one dared cross him - or his family.  When his beloved Adria died, Conrad swore he would find her killer.  When the then-Medical Examiner ruled her death an accident, Conrad had challenged him to prove it.  Of course, he couldn't, and he was forced to do the right thing - to declare it a homicide.  Since then, despite all of the wealth and power of the Dane family, the ongoing homicide investigation, and dozens of private investigators, no one had yet to prove positively who it was that forced their car off the road into the deep canal where her mother, trapped, drowned.  Miraculously Kelsi had survived.  But on that fateful dark and stormy night Kelsi had no chance to get a look at the other car much less the driver.

Kelsi had been ten at the time.  Her life had been a nightmare for months.  She sank between states of endless despair, hopelessness, and remorse.  More often than not, Kelsi blamed herself for her mother's death.  Ultimately, Conrad had been her savior.  Looking back on it, Kelsi could now fully appreciate that at some point Conrad accepted that he had to choose the life of his daughter over the death of his beloved wife.  Eventually, he brought her back.  He redeemed her from her misplaced guilt and inspired her to carry on her mother's dreams.  It was the greatest gift of her life.

She could barely wait to see him!

The glass elevator doors opened into the spacious environment of Dane Law.  The mahogany floors glistened and contrasted with the centerpiece of the floor - a giant polished marble DANE logo that was dramatically entwined in the darker mahogany.  Beyond, giant ceiling to floor windows softened by soaring sheer curtains exposed the glistening waters of Biscayne Bay thirty floors below.

The receptionist escorted Kelsi through the sleek columns towards her father's beloved art collection.  She stopped briefly to admire the mysterious painting of the beautiful Cuban woman.  Kelsi thought back to her mother.  While she rarely spoke of the painting, it had always been clear to Kelsi that the mystery surrounding the painting secretly bothered Adria Farris Dane.  It was as if she sensed a great love lost.  Kelsi stared back into the woman's chocolate eyes.  Silly, Kelsi.  You've always embellished the mystery.

Are you coming, Kelsi?

Of course.  Sorry.  I was just ... Kelsi caught up with the receptionist and followed her into her father's magnificent bay front office. 

There he was, handsome and distinguished - his dark suit in vivid contrast to the exquisite coral and plum walls and the towering glass windows.  And behind him - the magnificent oil painting of Adria Farris Dane.  Kelsi was taken aback every time she experienced the beauty of the portrait.

Kelsi!  My beautiful girl.  Conrad rose from his enormous creamy white leather desk chair and greeted his daughter with a warm hug.  You look wonderful.  Look at that tan.  You've been sailing.  And look who decided to join us! 

Jonathan.  How wonderful.  Kelsi gazed at her older brother in admiration.  His wide shoulders and his trim waist were only accentuated by his obviously-custom-fitted suit.  His sun streaked hair and those crystal green eyes made him look like a sun-god.  And the smile.  What woman would not melt from that smile?

You look fabulous.  Every woman in town must be chasing after you.

Not quite.  It's great to see you, Kelsi.  You certainly have become quite the celebrity.  I understand your next achievement will be the Pulitzer.

Kelsi could feel the blush.  Phooey on the Pulitzer.

That's my baby!  Kelsi, I'd like you to meet my new Security Expert, Trey Lamont.  Trey is a founding partner of Miami's absolute best - and priciest - security firm, Baron|Lamont.

Kelsi felt her heart stop.  She worked to catch her breath.  And words ... there were no words.  This was the sexiest, most handsome, most perfect man she had ever seen in real life ... or in films ...  She gazed into his dark violet eyes.

He extended his hand.  Kelsi.  I am a great admirer of your work.  I cannot express how much I admire your talent - not to mention your bravery.  You are in a class by yourself.

She's her daddy's daughter!  She'll bring that paper back close to what it was when her mama was the Publisher.

Conrad was in all his glory.  Trey is former DEA.  Good for me he chose law enforcement over pro baseball.  Otherwise he'd be just another rich athlete instead of a rich security genius.

Trey was obviously amused by Conrad's description of him.  I beg your pardon, he quipped but if anyone deserves top dollar fees, it's the poor fellow who has to watch over the mighty Conrad Dane empire.

Kelsi was enjoying the banter between them.  And the momentary break had given her time to compose herself.  Daddy, he's absolutely right.  Anyone who can rise to the occasion of watching over you has my profound sympathy.  He's absolutely worth every penny.

She had to turn to Trey.  He was stunning.  You were drafted to play pro baseball?

I was indeed.  Right out of college.  The Oakland A's.  Pitcher.

Kelsi didn't even attempt to hide her enthusiasm.

Trey's a Gator, not a Cane.  But we'll forgive you that.  Conrad put his arm around Trey with obvious pride.  Gator or not, you're a decent man, Trey.  Hey, speaking of athletes, Kelsi's an athlete in her own right.

Jonathan was obviously amused.  For sure.  She can beat out anybody she chooses in sailboat racing.

Including you, dear brother!

Trey turned to Kelsi, I'm impressed.  A sailor, no less. 

Kelsi had never been speechless in her life!  But at this moment in time, she was literally thunderstruck.

Kelsi, darling.  We're going to stay in for lunch.

Kelsi was relieved.  Lunch at the office would be far easier.  Trey was a huge distraction.  Not to mention, she was on edge over the morning's events.  For now it was a relief to bury herself in the comfort of Dane Law.

That's perfect, Daddy.

"Even more perfect than you know.  Gabby has arranged for a special catering from Il Gibbiano.