by E. M. Gayle
Dirty Little Sins
Dirty Sins Duet Book 1
E.M. Gayle
Gypsy Ink Books
DIRTY LITTLE SINS
by
E.M. GAYLE
Copyright © 2020 by E.M. Gayle
All rights reserved.
http://emgayle.com
Eliza on Facebook
Eliza on Instagram
Eliza on GoodReads
To find out about new releases, free ebooks and special sales, please Sign Up For My Newsletter at http://emgayle.com/news.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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
Also by E.M. Gayle
Books Writing As Eliza Gayle
Chapter One
ZIA
Oh my God, it was really happening.
All of my dreams were coming true, despite all the nightmares.
Zia's Kitchen.
I stood in the middle of the large and mostly vacant room, my eyes gritty, jet lag already weighing me down and not even caring that it was three in the morning and I should be sleeping. There was too much going on in my mind for me to settle and sleep any time soon.
The culmination of everything I'd worked so damned hard for stood before me, waiting for me to reach out and grab it.
I'd arrived in Vegas only a few hours before and I couldn't wait to get started. After a detailed meeting with hotel management, I had a decent idea on the scope of work left to get my restaurant ready for opening day.
I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. The checklist had filled half my notebook and I had less than a month to get it ready. Four weeks to be exact. Twenty-eight days from today to perfect every last detail.
I can do this.
Of course there had been delays that caused the current back up, but not getting done on time was no longer an option. Invitations for opening night had already been delivered and I wasn't about to kick this venture off by cancelling my first event. I had too much at stake for that.
I rubbed my hands over my face and stifled the yawn working my jaw. There would be no rest for the weary any time soon. Not that I cared. A smile split my face. I hadn't expected an unpainted, unfinished room with nothing more than a view of the strip going for it to bring me such joy. But there it was. Hope soaring into the glittery neon lit sky.
This place represented the dream. It was everything I had wanted since I was a little girl sitting in my grandmother's kitchen in Italy absorbing everything she did in her small kitchen. The memory of which was now bittersweet because she couldn't be here to see this place. I hoped if she were she would be proud.
I wandered over to the wall of windows that overlooked the strip. The view from here was nothing short of spectacular. Light in every color imaginable was visible from every direction for as far as I could see.
The Sinclair hotel may be a smaller, boutique style hotel compared to the behemoths that surrounded it, but what it lacked in size it more than made up in location. As in smack dab in the middle of every glitzy and glam thing that this town had to offer.
And soon my name would adorn the building just above these windows. When the network came to me with the pitch from the hotel owner, Mason Sinclair, I'd initially been hesitant. Yes, outside New York City, Vegas was one of the premiere spots for fine dining, but I'd worried that Sin City had become too commercial. No, not the right word I was looking for. My business was essentially all about selling. Between the New York Dessert Bar and the fledgling show on the Foodie Channel, there was no doubt I had a strong foothold in commercial.
But this...
I stared down at the large balcony outside the doors that would house several exclusive and expensive tables that would be reserved only for specific high profile guests.
I didn't want to be crass and call them rich. But in this town a spade was a spade was a spade. They could dress it up however they liked, but Vegas was still a destination that appealed to the highest echelon of the wealthy. Mr. Sinclair and his manager, Mr. Michaels, had assured me of that.
We were not opening a restaurant for the masses to come and eat. We were creating an experience that guests would not soon forget.
I sighed and looked up at all the gorgeous hotels spread out in front of me. Their understanding of my desire to not simply feed people initially sold me on this idea, but when they presented the architectural representations of the hotel and the changes they were making to accommodate my restaurant and included that I could have almost free rein to make my own changes to the interior, well, that sealed the deal for me.
The network also wanted in on it. Our next season, if it was ever given the final green light by the studio, would focus on the behind the scenes action of opening up Vegas's hottest new restaurant. Which, in reality meant I needed to buckle up and hold on because the network loved drama and they were not above creating it if they had to.
In fact, I'd be willing to bet money they had something to do with the work schedule changes that were going to make it harder for the work to get done on time. Which meant a tight, regimented schedule with no messing around would be necessary to keep my temperament in control.
Running a kitchen was expected to be stressful and I did actually thrive on it. But every once in a while...
Before I could finish my thought my gaze landed on the scrolling billboard underneath The Sinclair logo that announced upcoming events or other hotel goings on.
This one caught my eye because it featured boxing gloves. Something I hadn't even considered before coming to The Sinclair. Which in hindsight now seemed incredibly stupid. Did they even have an arena big enough for that kind of thing? As my mind tried to reason through this complication, the words continued to scroll across the screen.
Heavy Weight Championship Event.
My heart stuttered.
Premiere Level.
I could feel my throat closing.
Vincentius Romeo Cabrini.
I should have seen it coming, my heart had fought it, but my mind knew. So the gut punch hurt more than I could have known as I doubled over in pain.
No. No. No.
This could not be happening.
The fear seizing my chest made it impossible to breathe.
"Oh my God. Are you okay?"
I vaguely heard a female voice and the tap tap tap of her heels as she crossed the floor.
No, I was not all right.
The worst night of my life was now flashing through my mind on a loop reel as if it had happened minutes ago instead of months.
Vincent hovering over me, gripping my feverish skin with his rough hands. Squeezing my hip as he thrusted. The earth shattering orgasm that left me in pieces...
"Zia."
I heard my name being called and I knew it had to be Nina. I recognized her voice. But why did it sound so weird?
So far away?
There were flashing lights bouncing off the walls that surrounded me, but all I really saw was him. Making me scream his name over and over because I couldn't stop coming every time he touched another part of me.
I groaned. No. Please. I couldn't go back down that road again. I just couldn't.
I'd grieved enough in New York. Vegas was finally supposed to be my fresh start. And yet, the tears hovered at the rims of my eyes as more of that night paraded through my relentless memory.
"You trying to play me here, Zia?" Vincent's growled words scraped down my spine and into the hollow pit of my stomach.
"Excuse me? Who's been trying to play who? It seems you left out some very important information before you decided to sleep with me."
He chuckled, only it didn't sound funny at all.
As it turned out, I was right, it wasn't funny and that sound turned into my worst nightmare as I'd tucked tail and ran to the airport as quick as I could.
If I was lucky, I would never again have to see the man who'd just broken my heart and then stomped all over it.
"Zia, honey, you're really scaring me. Do you need a doctor? I'm going to call Gabe."
Her soft hands were gripping my arms as she gently tried to bring my focus back to the present.
"I'm okay," I whispered hoarsely, fighting off the panic still gripping my insides. "Please don't call anyone. I just need a minute."
"I don't know. You're trembling. Did something happen?"
I nodded. "Yes, but not just now. I uh—" I didn't want to tell this woman I barely knew about the utter failure of my love life. Love. Hah! What a joke. I needed to call it what it really was. Sex. That's it. There was no such thing as love. I don't care how many people "fell" in love every day. Even my best friend back in New York had succumbed to that bullshit concept.
That was fine. As long as Alex made Harper happy I didn't care what they called it. And considering the intensity of their sex life, I suspected that would last a very long time.
Me though. I shook my head. I'd entertained the notion twice and paid dearly for it. First, financially and then emotionally.
"By the look on your face and the way you're trembling, I'd say it's something serious. Would you say it's a one bottle of wine to get it out problem or should I get something harder? Because I can tell you now, whatever it is, if you don't get it out it will only get worse."
I blinked up at the woman who wasn't my boss, but definitely had some say so in how things went for me here at The Sinclair. Falling apart in front of the hotel's event coordinator, not to mention the wife to the hotel manager, had not been on my list of to do's today or any day for that matter.
"I'll be fine. I just need a minute to pull myself together."
Nina smirked at me. "Don't try to bullshit a bullshitter. And don't think because my husband runs this hotel that you can't confide in me. I know what it's like to start over in a new city where you don't have any friends to help you deal with a crisis. And I'm pretty good at keeping secrets as well. So let's do this. Since neither one of us can apparently sleep tonight, I'm going to go grab us some wine and we're going to sit right here and talk. I bet if you give me half a chance by the time the sun comes up we'll already be friends and I promise whatever you tell me isn't going to leave this room."
I almost wanted to laugh. Nina was making this really easy for me. No weird looks or condemning words. Just frank lay it all out there talk. Could I actually go through with that with her? Tell her everything about my last trip to Italy?
Even my best friend Harper didn't have all of those details. For the last several months it had felt too soon to open that wound and bleed again. But seeing his name on that sign all lit up for the whole world to see had twisted me up all over again and sent me rushing back to square one. If I didn't find a way to deal with this, I was not going to get through this restaurant opening and that just wasn't an option.
Maybe it was time to see someone about this. I'd considered a therapist before, but I was too afraid that would end up splashed across some entertainment website as news to actually go through with it.
My focus had to remain on this place.
I not only wanted Zia's to open on time, I wanted it to be unforgettable for every single person who walked through my doors. Maybe Nina was right. Opening up to a virtual stranger, who had a stake in my success, might be the key to managing all of this. I certainly didn't have any other brilliant ideas at three in the morning.
"Okay," I finally said. "As long as it stays between us."
Nina raised to her feet and nodded. "Of course. First rule between women is never break the code of silence."
Okay I did laugh at that as she disappeared through the doors that I knew led to the kitchen and an extensively supplied wine cellar where every bottle had been approved by me. I wasn't just picky about the food. I wanted every detail associated with the restaurant to be perfect. Did I mention I could be a little OCD about all of this?
I pressed my back against the wall as I turned to gaze out the window again, only this time making sure I couldn't see The Sinclair billboard. Maybe I couldn't unsee his name, but I could avoid it a little while longer.
"Here we go." Nina took a seat on the floor next to me and placed two glasses and a bottle of 2010 Leoville Las Cases. An exquisite red Bordeaux well known for its dark flare of drama and mystery.
I looked at it and then at her where she barely hid a smile and snorted before I could cover my mouth with my hand.
"I take it you know your wines."
She smiled, an infectious sentiment that settled me immeasurably. "I've been studying. When I first came across this one, I thought to myself then that the time for this wine would be important. Finding it tonight seems like Karma. It felt right for this moment."
"You chose well," I said taking the wine bottle from her so I could open and pour for us. I wanted to hurry up and get this going before I lost my nerve and ran from the room like a child. She handed me the corkscrew and after I swirled and sampled, I finally poured our glasses and settled back.
I wasn't sure how to start so I took a few more swallows as I contemplated what I wanted to say.
"Do you always measure your words this much before you speak?" she asked.
I laughed, although it barely came out as a chortle. "I don't usually share my personal life with strangers."
"Really? Because I think there are several tabloids who would beg to differ."
I scowled into my glass. "Those vultures. They get a lot of shit wrong, but they also manage to dig up some nuggets of truth that I have no idea how they get. It's a serious downside to putting myself out there."
"That's their job I guess. Not that I read those rags. But it's hard not to see the headlines when I'm standing in line at Target."
I turned and gave Nina a once over. It was hard to imagine this sleek, ultra cool woman dressed in silk lounging pants with a short dark kimono tied tightly around her waist standing in line at Target. Macy's maybe, but even that felt like a stretch. She shouldn't be doing any shopping at all.
"Oh don't look at me like that. I may dress designer when I'm working because I have to, but you can bet the minute I hit our suite, I'm back in denim cutoffs and t-shirts with my feet bare and my hands dirty in our rooftop garden."
"You have a rooftop garden. Here? In the hotel?"
"Sure do. Gabe built me this amazing space to do whatever I wanted with. As much as I enjoy the Vegas life, there are times I need to get back to nature and remember where I came from."
"Where's that?"
"Small town North Carolina. I used to have a café there that overlooked the lake. It was peaceful and busy and crazy all at the same time."
"You cook?" I'd gotten stuck on the first part of her explanation.
It was her turn to laugh. "Sure do. But not like you so don't get too excited. I made sandwiches and casseroles and every other Southern thing you can think of. Definitely
not a four-course type situation."
"I love small towns. I used to spend my summers with my grandmother in the middle of nowhere countryside outside a tiny Italian village. It's how I learned to cook."
Nina set down her glass and touched my elbow. "As much as I love sharing these things with you, I think you're using them as a way to procrastinate from telling me what's really going on. Why don't we get to the important stuff, like what freaked you out, and then later when we're both too shitfaced to be serious, we can talk about the other. Deal?"
I hesitated only for a second. I'd gotten good vibes from Nina every time I met her and nothing about that had changed. Besides, she was right. I was stalling. I lifted my glass, took one last sip and started in on the long overdue story.
"The billboard out front. I saw his name."
She abruptly placed her wine glass on the floor. "Wait. This has to do with the hotel? Oh boy, I read the situation all wrong. I thought for sure this was about a man. Your recent divorce perhaps? Don't get me wrong. I’m here for work drama too, especially if something happened in our hotel. That I can definitely fix."
"Wait. What?" I stared at her dumbfounded. I had no idea what she was talking about.
"What?” she echoed me and then laughed. “Sorry, my mind is jumping ahead and getting confused. How about you start over and I stop interrupting. The billboard out front. You saw his name. Who’s name?”
My stomach churned as the story hovered on the tip of my tongue.
“Vincent.”
Her eyebrows rose when I finally said it out loud, but to her credit she didn’t say anything. She just waited for the rest.
