BLAZE (The HEAT Series Book 3)

by Deborah Bladon

  BLAZE

  Part Three of

  The HEAT Series

  New York Times Bestselling Author

  Deborah Bladon

  FIRST ORIGINAL KINDLE EDITION, MAY 2016

  Copyright © 2016 by Deborah Bladon

  All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without written consent from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously. Any resemblance to actual person’s, living or dead, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-926440-38-5

  Book & cover design by Wolf & Eagle Media

  www.deborahbladon.com

  Also by Deborah Bladon

  THE OBSESSED SERIES

  THE EXPOSED SERIES

  THE PULSE SERIES

  THE VAIN SERIES

  THE RUIN SERIES

  IMPULSE

  SOLO

  THE GONE SERIES

  FUSE

  THE TRACE SERIES

  CHANCE

  THE EMBER SERIES

  THE RISE SERIES

  HAZE

  SHIVER

  TORN

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Thank You

  Deborah’s Mailing List

  About the Author

  CHAPTER 1

  I stare across the room for a full heartbeat, trying to make sense of what I'm seeing. How is it possible that Sergio Firi is standing less than twenty feet from me in my boyfriend's apartment?

  "You're not going to say hello, Cadence?" Tyler looks at me. "You're the love of his life. You should be rushing into his arms."

  "I'm the love of his life," I repeat, a wave of emotion cresting inside of me. "He used to tell me that. He said I was the sunshine of his days."

  "What?" Tyler's voice is laced with anger. "Why didn't you tell me about him?"

  I glance back into the room. Sergio's still standing in place looking at me. He's aged well. His graying brown hair is shorter than I remember. He's thin, his slender face unable to disguise the signs that he's no longer the twenty-something chef who took New York City by storm decades ago.

  "Is he alone?" I whisper, swallowing hard. "Is she here?"

  "Who?" Tyler asks tightly. "Who are you talking about? What exactly are you to him?"

  Once, a long time ago, I was everything to him. Now, I'm nothing.

  "Come to me, sweetheart." Sergio's accented voice cuts through the air. "Let me look at you."

  "Go," Tyler sneers. "Go to him, sweetheart."

  His words drip with sarcasm. I know he's pissed. He was cast into the middle of this without any warning. I wanted to tell him about Sergio. I knew that I'd have to eventually. I just didn't know how.

  "Don't call me that." I pivot on my heel so I'm facing Tyler directly. "You don't understand."

  "What don't I understand?" he asks, seething. "Tell me what the fuck is going on, Cadence. How long have you been the love of his life?"

  I suck in a sharp breath not wanting to be reminded of those words. I was the center of Sergio's world at one time. He would have laid his life down for me. So much has changed since then. It's been years since I've heard his voice. Our last communication was a text message sent by him telling me that choices aren't always easy but his was necessary.

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. "I just want to know if she's here. Did he come alone?"

  "I've missed you, my beautiful girl." Sergio steps toward me, then stops. "I'm alone. She's not here."

  My heart leaps with his words. I shouldn't give a shit that she's not here with him. It doesn’t matter. She's somewhere close. She always is, keeping him chained to an emotional leash that is wrapped snuggly around his heart. He'd do anything for her. At one time he would have done anything for me, or almost anything.

  "She? Who the fuck is she?" Tyler's arms cross over his chest. "I have a right to know."

  "My wife," Sergio interrupts as he moves a foot closer to us before he stops again. His hands dive into the front pockets of his black trousers. "It's my wife that she's asking about."

  "Wife?" Tyler turns toward Sergio. "What's going on with you and Cadence? You told me that you love her."

  "I do." He closes his eyes. "I love her with everything. She's my life."

  "That's not true." I bite out. "You can't say that now. You can't say that after everything that's happened."

  "What the hell is going on?" Tyler steps in front of me, his body a physical barrier between me and Sergio. I know he's not doing it to protect me, but it feels that way. I look into his face but I'm met with blatant indignation. His nostrils are flared, his jaw tight and firm. His eyes are vacant. The only emotion I can see is frustration in the furrow of his brow.

  "I can't be here," I say the words quietly; acutely aware of how weak I sound. Tyler doesn't want me here. He practically told me to go to hell when he answered the door. Sergio doesn't want me here either. If he had wanted to see me, I would have heard something from him the past few years. I would have been his first call when he arrived in Manhattan. He has my number. He knows where I live.

  "I was wrong, Cady. I shouldn't have let her come between us."

  "Where is she?" I lift an eyebrow, ignoring the nickname only he calls me.

  Sergio's eyes lock on mine. "She's here. She's in the city."

  "How long have you been here?" I prod. "When did you get to New York?"

  A vein pulses in his neck. He waits a beat before he exhales audibly. "Two days. I've been here for two days."

  I shake my head. I'm not surprised. It's not the first time he's been in Manhattan since we last spoke. He was here, seven months ago, at the launch of a new restaurant in Greenwich Village. His money and name helped give wings to the project and when he showed up at the opening that doubled as a charity fundraiser, it made the local news.

  I sat on the couch next to Sophia that night watching Sergio being interviewed just a few miles from my apartment. I went to bed in tears and woke up with the hope that he'd call. He never did.

  His gaze dips to the floor. "I wanted to see you, Cady. I wanted to call you."

  "You would have gone back to Rome without contacting me again. If I hadn't come here to see Tyler, I never would have known you were in New York."

  "It's complicated. You know that it is." His lips twitch as he says the words.

  "This is obviously personal," Tyler interjects in a harsh tone. "I appreciate the meal Sergio but it would be best if you and Cadence went somewhere else to discuss this."

  The dejection in his face hits me hard. This was intended to be a celebratory dinner shared with his idol. Instead, it's turned into something else, something ugly and bitter. It's not right that he's been pulled into this.

  "I'm the one who showed up uninvited," I say when I turn back to Sergio. "You should stay. There's nothing left for us to discuss."

  "I disagree." He reaches
for me but I sidestep his hand. "We need to fix this, Cady. I love you. You know that I do."

  "I know you do," I say before I turn to walk back into the corridor and out of his life once again. "Sometimes love isn't enough, Dad. Sometimes it's just not enough."

  CHAPTER 2

  "I thought one of them would stop me before I reached the elevator," I confess as I pull the plastic comb through my damp hair. "When I turned back to look at the door of Tyler's apartment, it was closed."

  "I'm sorry, Den," Sophia says. "I know that things between you and your dad haven't been good the past few years."

  She only knows what I've told her. I was grateful that the name Sergio Firi meant nothing to her before I admitted, months ago, that he's my father. She'd sat on the edge of a chair with a glass of wine in her hand as I explained sparse details about the man who began a short, but intense, relationship with my mom when she worked as a server in a restaurant he managed.

  I've never lied to Sophia so when she asked me on that Saturday afternoon, over lunch at a restaurant in Chelsea, whether I knew the celebrated chef who had appeared on the news the night before, I was honest. Chef Sergio Firi is my dad.

  It's a role he embraced when I was a child even though he insisted I call him Sergio. I haven't always done that, craving the closeness that comes from acknowledging that he's my dad. Whenever I've intentionally called him "Dad, Daddy or Pops," he's never corrected me. He's never encouraged me to continue to do it either.

  "I still feel like it was a dream." I look at her reflection in the bathroom mirror as I work on untangling a knot in my hair. "He was the last person I expected to see at Tyler's apartment."

  Her voice is soft as she says, "I think you were expecting to find his ex-girlfriend there. Is that why you went over to his place?"

  As grateful as I am that we've stopped talking about Sergio, I don't want to talk about why I went to Tyler's. I can convince Sophia, and even myself, that I went because I wanted to see Tyler before his birthday party at Maribel's apartment.

  That's not the whole reason though. I panicked when Drea told me that he was having dinner with someone special. If it was his ex-girlfriend Neela, I wanted to be there to stop whatever plans she might have had.

  "I didn't know what to expect," I say honestly as I put the comb back in the drawer of the vanity. "I do know that right now there's a party at Maribel's that I'm not going to and I don't work at Nova anymore."

  She pauses as she rubs my shoulder. "You know that he fired you because he misunderstood what was happening between you and your dad, right?"

  The realization that Tyler jumped to the wrong conclusion about me and Sergio didn't hit me until I was in an Uber headed home. It wasn't a stretch for him to think that. My dad has lied so much about his age that it's now a running joke in the culinary world. Only a few people know how old he really is.

  He also had a penchant for younger women at one time. That's changed since he married Asta. She started working as a sous chef at Magari soon after she moved to New York from Stockholm. Sergio was smitten and since then, everything has changed.

  "It doesn't matter, Soph." I brush past her so I can go to my room. "He fired me. I can take the job on the morning show now."

  She tugs on my elbow to stop me when we walk into the hallway. "It's the best career move for you, Den but you still need to set Tyler straight. You should explain to him why you kept Sergio a secret."

  I pull on the sash of my short robe, tightening it against the chill in the apartment. The air conditioning has been running on high all day. "I plan on talking to him. I just need a day or two to cool off before I do that."

  "He'll understand, Den. Anyone would."

  Tyler might understand. Sophia might too if I tell her the real reason that my dad and I stopped talking. She thinks it's because I didn't accept the gift he offered me on my twentieth birthday.

  Sergio wanted me to go to Paris for culinary school. He'd made a few calls and pulled a string or two to get me enrolled in one of the most prestigious programs in the world. It wasn't because he wanted the best for me. He didn’t do it so I'd have every advantage once I graduated.

  He did it because Asta wanted me out of his life and Asta always gets what she wants.

  CHAPTER 3

  "I'm going down to the television station to tell them I'm taking the job," I say to Sophia as soon as she walks into the kitchen. "I'm making breakfast for you."

  She mumbles something under her breath before she reaches to pull her travel mug from the cupboard. "I'm late, Den. I overslept."

  I glance at the digital display on the microwave. "You start work at nine, don't you? You've got more than an hour."

  Her gaze lifts to meet mine after she fills the mug with coffee from the French Press. "I forgot to send out an email before I left the office yesterday. I need to do that as soon as possible or Mr. Foster will flip."

  "I don't understand why you're still his assistant." I butter a piece of toast before I carefully place a soft poached egg on top. I finish with a splash of Sophia's favorite brand of hot sauce. "You should be working in the design department."

  "I will one day." She eyes the plate of food. "You only ever cook breakfast for me when you're worried about something."

  "That's not true," I scoff. "I don't do that."

  "Your anxiety may not be good for you but it's great for me." She picks up the fork I placed on top of the plate. "I can eat a few bites."

  "You can eat it all," I reply as she eats a forkful. "I know you, Soph. You eat lunch at your desk most days and half of the time you don't even order anything in. You snack on those packages of crackers you carry around in your purse."

  She nods while she chews.

  "I can come meet you for lunch today," I offer, as much for myself as for her. I don't know what I'm going to do after I go to the station to accept the job.

  The second I woke up this morning I checked my phone to see if Tyler called or texted. He hadn't. My dad hadn't either. All that was waiting for me was another text message from Brendon offering me that senior chef's position at Axel.

  "I can do that." She wipes her mouth with a linen napkin. "The best time for me is noon. Can you make it then?"

  "I'll be there," I say with a forced grin. "I'll pack up something for us to eat in the park."

  "With that raspberry lemonade you make?"

  I sip my coffee. "Two glasses of lemonade it is. I'll be at your office at noon sharp."

  ***

  I step out of my building and into the bright sunshine shortly after nine. The temperature is already warm enough that I didn't bother with a light sweater to cover the sleeveless blue sundress I'm wearing. I know, from experience, that when it's this hot in Manhattan, this early in the day, that a thunderstorm is on the horizon. That's why I tucked my compact umbrella into my oversized purse. I'll stop at home again before I meet Sophia for lunch but I don't want to get caught in a downpour without any protection. Sophia worked too hard on this dress for it to be ruined by a mid-day shower.

  I tug on my ponytail securing it in place. It not only gives me a put together look, it helps keep me from overheating. I'm too fair to enjoy the sun the way Sophia does. I burn within minutes if I'm outside without any sun protection.

  "You look beautiful this morning."

  I turn my head toward his voice. He's standing next to me, his hand shielding his eyes from the sun. He's dressed in a short sleeve black dress shirt and jeans.

  "Tyler," I whisper, unsure of how my voice sounds. I wasn't expecting this. I didn't want to see him today.

  "It's early." His brows rise. "Are you headed somewhere in particular?"

  I have no desire to tell him that I'm on my way to secure a new job. He doesn't need the reminder that he fired me last night. I sigh. "I have an appointment in mid-town."

  "We need to talk. I'd like to do that now."

  I run my hand over the back of my neck. Barbara doesn't even know that I'm on my way to
the studio but I'm not about to tell Tyler that. "I don't have time. I want to get there as soon as I can."

  "Are you going to see your dad?" He stares at me for a minute. "Before he left my place he told me he wants to make things right between you two."

  Did he now? That might be Sergio's intention but Asta won't let that happen.

  "No." I inhale deeply. "I won't be seeing him before he leaves for Italy."

  His mouth thins. "It's going to be hard to avoid him, Cadence. Sergio is back in New York for good."

  CHAPTER 4

  "When he called you the love of his life I assumed that you two…"

  "I know, Tyler," I interrupt. "You didn't know I was his daughter."

  "I didn't know he had a daughter." He faces me. "I thought I knew everything there was to know about Sergio Firi but I had no idea you existed."

  I wring my hands together in my lap. After Tyler told me that Sergio is planning on making Manhattan his home base again, I'd felt all the color drain from my face. I told him I needed a glass of water and when I started back toward the front door of my building, he was right behind me. I didn't stop him. I couldn't form the words to tell him that I wanted to be alone so instead I let him ride up the elevator with me and when I walked into my apartment, he followed a step behind.

  "He's protective of his private life," I explain. "He wanted his food to be the only thing associated with his name."

  "I get that." He steps closer to where I'm sitting on one of the kitchen stools. It was the first place to set myself after I downed a full glass of cold water in one gulp. "There was a lot of tension between you two last night."

  It's an open-ended understatement. The tension in his apartment last night was palpable.

  For the past few years I've imagined what it would be like if I ever saw Sergio again. In some of those daydreams I'd race into his arms and he'd scoop me up the way he did when I was a toddler running into the kitchen of the first restaurant he ever owned. It was a small Italian place in lower Manhattan that got poor reviews but had a solid clientele.