Magical Mayhem Read Free Page B

sure you are on board." To his surprise, Megan managed to do that much without messing up.
    Megan did her best to concentrate, and while things were going better, she still was messing up entirely too often. She was afraid that Montague was going to fire her at any moment.
    "It is time for dinner," he suddenly announced. "I am not in the mood for room service and I would rather not eat in the dining room here, so let's go out. You're dressed just fine," he said when she opened her mouth to ask. "Just get a coat..."
    Megan heard him call down to have his car brought to the side entrance, and she thought he was terribly bossy, but she couldn't afford to upset him over trivial things. She was hungry, and surely she would be able to find something to eat wherever they went. She simply hoped it wasn't too expensive.
    Her next shock was Montague's car! It was a bright red convertible, with the top up because it was too chilly to have it down. It was also very, very expensive! He opened the door for her, and she sank into the soft leather seat.
    "What kind of food do you like, Megan?" he asked as he started the car. The engine purred softly, and she was so impressed she was suddenly tongue-tied. "Do you like Italian?"
    She looked at him and took serious note of the clothing he was wearing. It was all very, very expensive, and his watch was a Rolex!
    "Megan, what is wrong? We don't have to eat Italian if you'd prefer something else...?"
    "Somewhere inexpensive. I don't have much money to live on until I get paid again," she finally confessed, fearing he would go somewhere extravagant.
    "Megan, I will pay for your meals as part of your salary. You worked hard today, and I want you to enjoy life on the road. Now then, do you like Italian food, or would you prefer something else?"
    "Italian is fine," Megan answered. She couldn't help but feel relieved that he intended to pick up the check when he pulled in front of a restaurant and a valet attendant came and opened the door for Megan, and then he took the expensive car and parked it. They went inside and the maitre d' came immediately to escort them to a table. The man seemed to recognize Montague, and welcomed him profusely as he seated them.
    "Your server will be with you very soon." Megan found herself wondering if the man was really Italian, or if his accent was fake. The server was male and Montague ordered wine for them. The waiter also had an Italian accent.
    "This is a very nice place," she whispered, speaking to Montague.
    "The food here is pretty good. Not the best I've ever had, but this isn't home, either," he told her, grinning. "My Ma makes the best lasagna in the world, and most any other Italian dish. Pop loves Italian."
    "Tell me about your family," she bossed. "Do you have any brothers and sisters?"
    "No brothers, just sisters... eight of them," he said and then waited for the inevitable reaction.
    Megan's eyes widened in surprise. "Are they older or younger?"
    "They are all younger, between the ages of sixteen and thirty. I'm thirty-two," he explained. "What about you, Megan? Any siblings?"
    "Yes, two brothers; both older. Dad is a retired police officer, and both the boys followed in his footsteps. I am the family screw-up," she admitted.
    "I do not want to hear you say that again, young lady." Montague's voice was low, but very firm. "I will not listen to you put yourself down like that."
    "Even if I am speaking the truth?" she asked. "You can ask my parents or Wally and Dave. They'll agree that I was born to make them all worry."
    "How old are your brothers?" Montague asked, wondering when and if he'd get a chance to punch them all in the face and tell them to stop putting their sister down. Megan was a beautiful young woman who had absolutely no confidence in herself.
    "Don't laugh, but Wally is forty-two and Dave is thirty-eight. I was an 'oops' baby," she stated, blushing.
    "And I bet they all spoiled you rotten!" Montague smiled teasingly. The waiter came once