by E. M. Gayle
"Seriously, Nina. I'm going to be—"
"Shut up," she ordered.
Honestly, if I didn't still feel woozier than I let on, not to mention the sweating going on underneath my shirt, I might have said something. Although some of the temporary mental fog had started to clear. Kind of. I guess if I was well enough to sit here and argue with myself, I probably wasn't facing imminent death or anything.
Nina dropped her phone into her pocket. "Gabe's on his way and he's bringing help. I'm going to go and grab you a bottle of water. Are you okay to sit here for a second and not keel over?"
I wanted to roll my eyes, but I didn't really have the energy.
From the industrial sized refrigerators across the room, Nina called out. "What about some food? Maybe that would help."
My no came out on a groan and she shook her head. I didn't want to tell her this wasn't my first rodeo. When I'd been going through my divorce I'd had some pretty bad attacks and ever since those pictures had been delivered there'd been a few almost on camera close calls.
"Water's good," I croaked out.
She rushed back to my side and handed me an uncapped bottle. "You may not want to hear this right now, but I know what it's like to be at the end of your rope. No matter the circumstances. Whether you're just working too hard, which I suspect, or how facing a certain someone again has caused an upheaval, which I also suspect. I can help."
"She doesn't need help. At least not the kind you think."
The low rumble of the familiar male voice rolled through me in a violent wave, leaving my stomach somewhere around my feet. What the hell was he doing here?
"Is that so?" Nina moved in front of me and if I was able to breathe deep I might have appreciated her protectiveness more.
Despite Nina's slender back blocking my line of sight, I felt the rake of Vincent's gaze from my head to my toes. I groaned. Why the hell did he have to choose now to finally show up?
Humiliation burned with outrage as I tried to regain my composure. I couldn't let him see me like this.
I forced the bottle of water to my lips and swallowed enough to wet my parched throat.
"She is not well," he said. "I've come to take care of her."
"She's fine," Nina retorted. "She doesn't need you to make things worse."
I imagined Vincent's brow lifting as Nina continued to defend me. While my heart rate hadn't calmed, the humor of my situation had begun to clear some more of the haze in my mind and enabled me to take deeper breaths as well as another sip of water. I'd made it to the other side without a full blown attack and just needed some fresh air. Not to mention some peace and quiet.
Couldn't he be like a normal person and have just sent a text or something? Why show up here? Now?
"I'm removing her from this kitchen now." His voice had deepened to a near growl and while my hackles rose at his gall, I also found it sexy as hell.
Of course I did. Because I was fucked up AND stupid.
"She's not—" Nina wasn't letting go, but I didn't need her protection anymore. Good intentions or not. They both needed to know that I made my own decisions.
"It's okay, Nina. The sauce I was working on is now ruined and I'm too tired to start over on it tonight. So I might as well get some sleep and start fresh in the morning."
We all turned our heads to the mess on the stove. The red sauce had indeed boiled over and splattered every surface within three meters. Not only was it a reality, it was also a metaphor for the mess my life had become.
Despite the impending recovery, I felt tears sting at the back of my eyes. When Vincent turned toward me and met my gaze it only got worse. The combination of concern, determination and possibly a little sympathy was more than I could handle.
When he reached up and touched my cheek before swiping a strand of hair behind my ear, I felt something break inside me. I didn't know how to resist this side of him. And maybe I didn't really want to. He had an instinct for what I needed and when and I had a desire to meet that instinct with my own.
"Cut there!" A familiar voice boomed through the kitchen. "Oh my God, that was absolute perfection. That's going to make for one hell of a teaser for a second season."
Oh shit.
My stomach plummeted as my show director and camera crew filed into the cavernous room that suddenly felt restricted and tight. Or maybe that was just my chest as my anxiety ratcheted back up to a whole new level.
"What's going on?" Nina turned to the crew and questioned, her eyes wide over the intrusion.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm Zack, the director of Zia's Kitchen. Sorry for the middle of the night arrival but our plane was delayed. But as luck would have it, that turned out perfect." He turned to Henry, the head cameraman. "You got all that, right?"
He nodded, a slight smirk crossing his face. Of course he did. They were all great at their job and especially Henry. He had a knack for being in the right place and the right time to get the perfect shot.
"And you!" Zack turned to Vincent. "Color me surprised to find The Destroyer himself in the kitchen with our Zia." He rubbed his hands together in obvious excitement. "I foresee this is going to be a very interesting set over the next four weeks."
I groaned.
Just great.
Chapter Eleven
VINCENT
"This is not good," Zia whispered low enough so that only I heard her. "You need to get out of here before this gets out of control."
I bristled at her desperate tone. I knew she didn't mean it as quite the insult it came across as, but annoyance filled me nonetheless.
"I think we both know that ship has already sailed. The way your director over there is keeping an eye on us he's already guessed that we've slept together and he's cooking up ideas on how he can exploit that fact on your show."
"Oh my God, Vincent, No! I don't know if you know this or not, but the parent company that owns our network is a family based network. Everything is strictly G rated. I'm not even allowed to cuss. Do you know how hard that is for me?"
I laughed at the horror on her face and in her voice. I did have an idea how hard it was for her to carefully choose her words. Actually more than an idea. My woman liked the F word in all its incarnations. Especially when she was getting fucked.
My muscles went tense at the memory of her in my kitchen, begging me to fuck her harder. To make her fucking come. She'd been so wild at that point and it made me equally crazed. By the time she'd exploded on my dick, nearly strangling me, I was going out of my mind. It had been the perfect reminder of how intense sex between us could be.
What she didn’t understand then or now was how this was barely the beginning. There was a hell of a lot more to come. One night in Italy had not been enough to teach her that lesson. Not when all I could think about was how perfectly she fit me. Nor did a second. No, I was far from getting my fill of this woman and I needed to repair the damage my absence this week had created quick before she put any more space between us.
I eyed the production crew across the kitchen. This certainly complicated matters. But I was nothing if not resourceful and television show or not, she was coming home with me tonight.
I'd walked in on her as she faced an anxiety attack most likely fueled by a lack of sleep, little food and an emotional state brought on by stress and my absence. Not that she'd ever admit that. And no that wasn't my ego talking. With the intensity of our connection, some sort of emotional response couldn't be avoided.
Not that this was the time to mention that little fact.
She had it in her head that she enjoyed being in control. And while that might apply to her while she ruled this kitchen, my little queen liked it more when I took control.
I regretted that I'd had to avoid her for this week, but some of my newly expanded family had descended on the casino and I didn't need to complicate matters by putting her in anyone's crosshairs.
Although watching the director animatedly chat with his camera man reminded me that in this circ
umstance that bell might have already been rung. If that Hollywood asshat had already decided to drum up publicity for her show with my connection, then my budding attachment for Zia would never stay hidden.
I frowned at my own thoughts. Attachment felt like a strong word at this point. Desire, lust and need were more appropriate. At least for now. After this fight and after I discovered who the hell had blackmailed Zia, then maybe I'd consider something more.
Maybe.
My life had turned complicated. I may be approaching my final fight, but that didn't mean my life would be any less dangerous when this chapter of my career closed. Events from Italy were far more complex than a simple case of blackmail. Discovering that I was the illegitimate son of a notorious crime family had taken my life to a whole new level.
Thank God I wasn't some kind of first born son or some bullshit like that. I wasn't about to let people I barely knew tell me what to do. Although I'd gotten the hint that I would soon be hearing from them again.
Understatement of the fucking year.
I'd no sooner returned to Vegas when I was contacted by a "cousin." Apparently, meeting me had brought on a heart attack for Capo Rossi and things were not looking good.
Now I needed to balance this life and that one before it all imploded. With my biological father on his deathbed, the appearance of a son, illegitimate or not, complicated matters. And in that family, complicated often got you or someone close to you killed.
Not that I had decided if I wanted to be a part of their family. But curiosity did more than kill the cat.
"Are you not taking this seriously?" Zia hissed at me, her anger palpable now. "You're not even paying attention."
"We're leaving," I announced.
"No we are not. Although maybe it’s a good idea if you do go. I've got to convince Zack what he saw wasn't really what he thought."
"Good luck with that, babe. That guy isn't going to let go of a cash cow when he sees it."
"Wow, your ego is incredible. How do you handle that thing?"
I ignored her biting sarcasm. She may have gotten past her earlier freak out, but the stress since then had increased instead of decreasing and her cracks were still showing.
"It's not ego. It's fact. That guy may be a douche, but he is smart enough to know an exploitable money grab when he sees one. He's not going to let that go."
She groaned. "This is not what I need. I've got too much on my plate as it is without me having to manage more public perception. That is why I had to pay all that money. To keep our association secret. If this goes public, that just gives him incentive to share."
She was definitely pissing me off. "Look, babe. I think you should quit while you're ahead. Besides, we need to talk about that whole situation tonight. It's time to dig for some clues and get some answers. So I'm taking you out of here whether you like it or not."
I could see that my insistent tone was about to blow up in my face as her face turned crimson red and her warm eyes turned molten as she glared daggers at me.
"What's going on in here?"
Everyone in the room turned to the booming voice of Gabe, the manager of The Sinclair, who now stood in the doorway to the kitchen.
In a quicker move than should have been possible in her skyscraper heels, Nina crossed to her husband's side and he wrapped a possessive arm around her waist and pulled her close. "Shouldn't you be in bed by now?" he asked her, touching the side of her face.
"Shouldn't you?" The sass of her retort brought a smile to my face. There was something to be said for these women who weren't afraid to push the buttons of the strong men in their life. It certainly made life more interesting.
The rest of the room might have missed the stern look he gave her before he lifted his gaze to inspect everyone else, but I didn't. Plus I'd heard the rumors and seen Gabe at the Green Door club with his lovely wife shortly after they'd relocated to Vegas.
They weren't well known in the local BDSM community, but it also wasn't a secret that Gabe and his wife were well suited to some of the kinkier details this hotel often catered to.
"This is a lot of activity for a restaurant not yet open in the middle of the night."
Nina smirked at her husband. "The film crew for Zia's television show just arrived and I was checking on their room reservations."
"Is there some sort of problem? I thought all the arrangements were settled."
"They are. I just double checked." She turned away from Gabe. "Gentlemen, if you'll follow me we can get you settled for the night. Sound good?"
The cameraman groaned. "Hell yes. We've been trapped in too many airports today and I need some sleep."
The director nodded his agreement. "We do need to be fresh for tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" Zia questioned. "I thought production didn't start for a few more days."
"Check your email, hon. They cut our budget again, resulting in less time to get this wrapped up. We've got to start tomorrow and have this wrapped up on opening night."
"That doesn't give us a lot of time. Is this because the official renewal hasn't come through yet."
He nodded. "Yep. So enjoy this last night of freedom. As of tomorrow morning we have full access."
I couldn't say I understood everything they'd said. But the idea they were going to give her no privacy for the next three weeks did not sound good.
Without any more talk or fanfare, the entire television crew followed Nina out of the restaurant, leaving us alone with Gabe who had a distinct frown stamped across his face.
"You probably shouldn't be here," he said to me.
I didn't bother to answer. What I did or didn't do with Zia wasn't any of his concern. I didn't care if this was his hotel. This was my town and she was mine.
"He was just leaving," Zia's sudden outburst came with a fancy new shade of red coloring her pale skin.
I tried to catch her gaze so I could let her know that wasn't happening without making it a big deal with Gabe, but she refused to meet my eyes. I didn't care much for this behavior and I couldn't wait until later when I could discuss what I expected.
"We were just leaving." I purposefully didn't frame it as a question, knowing that she would bristle but likely not start an argument in front of her boss. At this point I wasn't above manipulating the situation to get what I wanted.
I shouldn't have to remind her that not long ago she'd been in the throes of an anxiety attack in front of her coworkers and I only wanted to help her get through it.
To Gabe's credit, he said nothing and his facial expression remained stoic without a single twitch. If he was surprised, and I doubt he was, that I was taking her home, he didn't show it.
I also saw the moment when Zia gave in to my demand. Her eyes softened as did her shoulders and her body tilted slightly in my direction. Good girl. I'd definitely have to reward her for that later.
"I'll leave you to it then. If you need anything else from us let us know." Gabe turned and faced Zia. "How about a meeting tomorrow to further discuss the production? We're on board with the idea of them using this restaurant opening as material for your show, but we need to make sure the entire crew is onboard with the fact we won't tolerate them stressing you out or interfering with your schedule."
She nodded. "Of course. Zack is normally pretty good at keeping to the guidelines. I think tonight he's just buzzed about getting started. We both want to prove to the network that we deserve a second season."
"Good. I'll have Nina schedule something for us and we'll iron it out to be sure. Anything else?" He hesitated a moment as if expecting Zia to ask him for something else.
"No, I think we're good for now. Despite the current mess, my staff and I made really good progress this week. We are still holding to schedule."
While she gave Gabe all the right words, I sensed the underlying tension told a slightly different story.
The man turned to me with a nod. "Vincent."
"Gabe." I nodded in return. It was all we needed. Every
thing else he communicated loud and clear with body language and bullshit meetings. He didn't want me fucking with his chef.
Too damned bad.
I didn't heed warnings and I couldn't be scared off. I also didn't accept defeat of any kind. And that didn't only apply to the fights I accepted. It simply wasn't in my nature.
"Shall we?" I held out my hand and to my surprise she slid hers inside of mine and that simple touch sent an arc of exhilaration rushing over my skin. That tiny act of submission made my blood roar and I barely resisted thumping on my chest like a goddamned caveman.
"Are we going to my room or yours?" The question was innocent enough, the answer not so much.
"Neither."
Her head swiveled sharply. "Then where are we going? I probably won't get a lot of time between now and whenever this new meeting will be."
"My house. And don't worry about Gabe. Nina isn't going to let him schedule it too early. She'll be mindful that you and your crew need a good night's sleep."
"Am I actually going to get any sleep?" She asked under her breath.
I chuckled low in response. She knew me too well. I'd have to plan a pleasurable surprise for her. After the wicked part of course.
I grabbed her hand and pulled her to my side, giving her waist a squeeze before I led her from the unfinished restaurant to the well-appointed luxury in the main hotel space.
Fortunately, the casino crowd was thin this time of night and we were able to make it to the parking garage without anyone stopping us.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" I could hear the weariness in her voice now and I knew taking her away from the hotel for a night or three was critical.
"We need a break from this place. The Sinclair is a premiere property, but it can't compare to the comforts of home."
"If your home is so close why are you staying in the suite next to mine?"
I signaled to my driver and ushered Zia into the town car before I answered. "When I get ready for a fight like the one happening soon I need to spend as much time as possible in the actual space. It gets and keeps my head focused on the job at hand.”