by E. M. Gayle
"That wouldn't be the case if you'd taken my advice. I mean that is what you pay me for. This fight was then, and is still, a bad idea. The timing is not good for a pissing match over a woman. Not with Hollywood sniffing around. Did you look at the script I sent you? We need to respond soon. Get the deal locked down before anyone changes their mind."
I stared at Brian and his clear blue eyes that looked all earnest and shit. If he was up to something he shouldn't be, then it should be him in Hollywood. Because he had some serious acting skills.
It was the one of the reasons I'd held back from just confronting him. I didn't want to fuck up years of a solid working relationship without some proof. I still believed in the benefit of the doubt, even if that belief was hanging on by a thread.
The other being my unwillingness to expose Zia any further. The less people who knew about the pictures, the better. If word ever got out about those pictures she would be devastated. Although I did think she'd overreacted.
We were two consenting adults indulging in a little consensual fun on vacation. A few erotic pictures weren't that big of a deal. Celebrities got caught up in sex scandals all the time. With a little creative PR spin, we could become the next Hollywood power couple.
America would eat it up.
That kind of attention was usually worth its weight in gold and couldn't be bought.
I shook my head. My thoughts were spiraling out of control and I'd missed whatever Brian had just rambled on about.
"What?"
Brian sighed. "What's up with you? You seem way more distracted than normal. Which isn't a good thing if you seriously intend on going through with this fight."
Instead of responding, I simply glared.
He sighed and shook his head. "Anyways, I was saying that the role in this movie pitch seemed practically written for you. Playing a boxer isn't even a stretch and should pave the way to future offers. I think you should take it. You keep saying you want to expand your career and spend less time taking fights. We've both agreed you can't stay the champ forever."
If that was his way of saying that I wasn't getting any younger, I didn't need to hear it. "I'm still thinking on it. It was a decent script. I liked the writing. But what about the other details? Who else is attached to this project? Is there a director? Other actors? What kind of time commitment are we talking about? I need more information before I can make an informed decision. You should know that by now."
I couldn't resist the small dig. Because I was right and we both knew it.
Brian initially ignored it and accepted a drink from the bartender, taking a swallow before he continued his little spiel.
"I'm happy to get those details, man, if they are that important to you. But this isn't an offer to trifle with. Especially if there is a chance you'll lose this fight. You've got to strike now while your star is at its brightest. As a non-experienced actor, an offer like this isn't going to come around every day."
"And when I win this fight? Huh? What will that do for my cred in Hollywood? You really think I'm that fucking stupid?"
He did. I knew it. Hell, most people did. I was a boxer who made a living getting knocked around a ring. Athletes were often underestimated, but fighters more than most.
I may not have lost a fight in almost eighteen years, but that didn't mean I didn't get knocked around a lot. I'd lost count of the number of concussions I'd ended up with. This sport was dangerous and long term brain injuries weren't unheard of.
But they were still wrong. I may not have come from some bullshit Beverly Hills family who were born with silver spoons in their mouths, but that didn't mean shit in my book.
I'd worked hard every single day of my life. Including fighting my way through college. I'd graduated too. I had a degree in sports medicine for Christ's sake. I'd even had the grades to go to med school if I'd wanted to. (I didn't, but that wasn't the point.) There were also half a dozen businesses around the world I either owned or had a stake in. I wrote my own goddamned future and that wasn't about to change any time—ever.
So getting treated by a manager I didn't think I could trust any more like a stupid child was about the last straw.
Like it or not his days were numbered. Just as soon as I figured out how he was involved in the Italy incident. My gut wouldn't let it go and Zia deserved the truth and after I made him pay, I wanted to make sure that shit couldn't happen again.
"I'm not saying you're stupid. You take my words far too personally. I only mean it's a risk you shouldn't have taken. It's a professional opinion, which is again, what I'm paid to give you. Same goes for the movie offer. If this is truly the direction you want to go in, then I think this is the deal. Take it before fickle Hollywood changes their mind and it disappears." He swallowed more of his drink and then smiled. "Not to mention it's one hell of a guaranteed payday."
I couldn't disagree. According to reports I'd been given, it was far more than a debut actor, even an already famous one, usually got paid.
"You provide me with the missing details and then I'll make a decision. Until then I've got a party to get to."
Brian set down his drink and turned fully to me. "Yeah about that. You sure this is the right time for that kind of thing? You seem to be splitting your focus more than usual before a fight. What's really going on?"
I wasn't about to divulge to him why I needed to have this party. That wasn't anyone's business but my own. He'd probably figure it out soon enough when I got Zia back where she belonged.
In my fucking bed.
"Maybe you should keep your head on your job and less on what I do in my personal time."
This time I didn't even try to hide my irritation. I'd had enough of this conversation and enough of Brian. His expiration date loomed and it was time to lay the groundwork for breaking our contract in the near future. If he'd had a hand in the picture incident I wanted him gone before I signed the Hollywood deal.
My future held many interesting possibilities that I needed to grab by the balls.
Without anyone I couldn't fully trust hanging on my coattails.
Chapter Five
ZIA
As sweat trickled down my back and my nerves jangled endlessly, I continued to slave over this evening's recipes.
To say that Vincent had disrupted my day was a hell of an understatement. I'd thought of little else as I went through the motions of preparing a virtual feast for this last minute party I had to cater. Not to mention all the details that I had taken care of in prep for the restaurant opening later this month.
I'd also had to mostly rely on myself to prepare everything. There hadn't yet been time to hire a full kitchen staff and today I was working with the barest of bones for help. A few servers and a line cook who managed to fill in as a half decent sous chef.
"Hello?"
I heard the feminine call from somewhere outside my kitchen, but I chose to ignore it. I did not have time for interruptions. Not if I wanted to get everything prepared on time.
"Zia, are you back here?"
This time the voice sounded closer and I recognized its owner. Something I probably didn't want to ignore if I wanted this gig to go smoothly. And I did. I wiped my hands on my towel, braced myself for whatever might come and turned in time to see Nina pushing through my kitchen door.
I swallowed down the almost automatic desire to apologize for my behavior from the night before, deciding that if she was going to hold that against me no apology would wipe that away. What's done was done and I didn't like to apologize for anything so frivolous.
"There you are," she said, smiling as she came in. "I've been trying to reach you since this morning, but you haven't been picking up your phone. So I contacted Julie and she said I'd find you down here likely without your cell and ignoring the world."
I nodded. "It's true. The day has been a madhouse. This last minute catering event is proving to be quite the challenge. But I guess that's how these things go and as the new girl on the restaurant blo
ck I've got to prove myself capable. Although if you really needed me, Julie should have contacted me."
Nina cringed. "No, no. I didn't want to interrupt you if I didn't have to. I know how it is. It's not uncommon for any hotel casino to operate under total chaos some days. But—" she hesitated, a strange look I couldn't decipher crossing her face. "Well, I couldn't ignore the fact that you are walking into that party blind tonight. There's more to it than a simple catering job."
I took a deep breath and turned back to the stove to check one of the dishes I particularly couldn't afford to let burn. I had more interest in focusing on my cooking than whatever hotel drama may be brewing.
"That's always the case, isn't it?" At least we weren't having to rehash my inappropriate bout of talkativeness while inebriated the night before. I was embarrassed enough about my reaction to seeing Vincent earlier without rehashing my idiocy last night.
"Yeah. About the party though..."
The hesitation in Nina's voice set me on edge. Maybe I was paranoid, but maybe not.
"Yeah?" I turned back to her. "Please don't tell me they don't like Italian food. That is my specialty and all I have planned."
"No. No." She shook her head. "It's nothing like that. But there is something you need to know about the host."
I breathed a sigh of relief. There simply wasn't time for me to change the menu and cooking something else this late in the day, was also out of the question. I only had a couple of hours before I was expected in the party suite with my brand new waitstaff that I'd yet to brief. "Well, then go ahead and lay it on me. It can't be that bad."
"Famous last words," she mumbled under her breath, but I heard it anyway.
Before she could continue though, there was a loud commotion followed by a lot of shouting in the direction of the front of the house. The area of the restaurant that would basically comprise the dining area.
"What the hell?" I questioned looking back and forth between my sauce and Nina, who looked as alarmed as I felt.
"Don't worry. You stay here and keep doing what you're doing. Whatever it is I am sure I can handle it."
I didn't respond right away, but it would have been pointless anyways. Nina was already half-way out the door by the time words hit my lips.
"I don't have time to deal with whatever this is," I shouted anyways. "If you need something for the restaurant, call Julie! This is the kind of shit she gets paid for."
I should have been ashamed of my too colorful language as I shouted after the equivalent of one of my bosses. Of which there were too many of by the way. I could already feel the toll of juggling them all and it wasn't much of a stretch to describe it all as a full on circus at this point.
Between the network, the restaurant I was trying to get opened here and the one I'd left behind in New York, I could feel the stress pressing down on me. Then there were all the little, but equally important details that I couldn't forget.
Pesky things like ratings for the show, seasonal menus for both restaurants with signature original dishes I'd yet to come up with, and the time all of it would consume.
Not that I had anything more pressing to take up my time. Since before my divorce had become final, I'd buried myself in work. My marriage to Dante had turned into a nightmare long before I found out about his mistress. As soon as the thought popped into my mind, I shut it down. There was no time for self pity and this was a special space I could thrive in. The fact it usually kept many of the demons that plagued me at bay was more important today than ever. Particularly one that I couldn't quite shake.
My brief and disastrous affair with Vincent.
As much as I tried not to think about it, it was if the world conspired against me to keep reminding me. First, in New York while my best friend Harper had been falling in love and I'd been bitten with the green envy bug. Until the whole blackmail thing of course.
The pictures had arrived before I'd even left Italy and I'd been on pins and needles as to how and when they would explode in my face. I'd blamed Vincent for obvious reasons, despite his proclamations of innocence.
I doubted that man knew the first thing about being innocent. Callum hated him and while I didn't care much for my stepbrother's behavior, there had to be some kind of backstory to their sudden rivalry.
Vincent had a presence though, that even I couldn't deny. Take today's disastrous episode in the hotel elevator for example.
One little touch and I'd melted all over again. As if I was some stupid girl with a crush on a man who was way out of my league. He was out of something all right. More like my worst nightmare. Something I shouldn't have to keep reminding myself of.
I grabbed a mallet from my tools and began pounding the chicken I needed for my dish. As far as I was concerned, spending time in the kitchen worked better than any kind of therapy when it came to working out what bugged me. And right now I had an image of Vincent in my mind as I pummeled away.
He may use his fists to work through his issues, which in my mind got him exactly nowhere. Me, however, I used my anger to create something beautiful and delicious that would bring joy to many people.
At least that's what I kept telling myself as I took out my aggression on an innocent piece of chicken and a cutting board.
I was beginning to think that tonight's last minute catering event might have been a Godsend after all. It had been quite some time since I'd been able to get in a kitchen and just create. Something long overdue.
I already had a mix of spices and flavors that I thought would work in some new dishes. After this party I'd come back to the kitchen and do some experimentation and get it all documented. I'd be alone with my thoughts and my pots and pans to experiment to my heart's content.
And I might as well enjoy it before the camera crews that were due at the end of the week arrived. After which a moment of peace would be impossible to find.
Hopefully that meant that the interactions between me and Vincent would be nonexistent. There had to be a way for us to coexist in this town without constantly running into each other. Maybe I could enlist Nina's help in that mission.
Since I'd blabbed my life story to her the night before, I might as well use that HUGE mistake to my advantage. She would understand why I needed to avoid their precious fighter.
If the show producers got a whiff of something personal between him and me, they'd either have an issue with it or want to sensationalize it on the show. How they pick and choose what to focus on still confused me. They got their panties in a twist over the basics and then turned a blind eye to their own salacious ideas.
Yes, I'd definitely talk to Nina about it when she returned and ask her thoughts on handling this situation.
Delegate. Delegate. Delegate.
The one word I had the most difficulty with while at the same time feeling more determined than ever to find that healthy work balance.
Feeling a little better now that I'd worked that out in my head and gotten into the cooking zone, I completely forgot about the fact that Nina had wanted to tell me something about the party host.
It wasn't until I'd gotten the servers set up and retreated to my own suite to change that I remembered she'd never made it back to the kitchen to finish whatever she'd wanted to say.
I shrugged into the mirror as I admired the long form fitting red dress that fell almost to my ankles and showcased the sky high black Jimmy Choos I'd chosen to wear at my first official event at The Sinclair. They'd been my last big indulgence before the bottom fell out. And private party or not, I needed to make the best impression at tonight's event.
They might not be food critics, but their reaction would be a good gauge of what to expect in the future.
As for Nina, whatever she'd had to say must not have been as important as she'd thought. I made a mental note to quiz Julie on what happened earlier to keep Nina away.
Pushing that thought out of my head, I put on my game face and headed towards the party suite.
As it turned out th
e party was to take place in one of the rooms just down the hall from mine. I had to pass through a private bar area where several people in various cocktail wear lingered over drinks.
Apparently, the pre-party had already started out here. I nodded to the bartender as I passed and proceeded to the door which had been left ajar, most likely for guests to mingle between the two spaces as they arrived.
I entered the suite and my eyes widened at the wall of glass across the from the door. This room might have been on the same floor as mine, but that's where the similarities ended.
Where I'd thought my room had been luxurious and spacious, it felt tiny in comparison to this one. The cavernous living area had several sitting arrangements made up of green velvet couches and deep seating chairs. They invited people to linger and relax at the same time.
The monochromatic decor of every shade of green lent the space a masculine feel without going too over the top to make a woman feel uncomfortable. Quite the opposite.
I wanted to linger here. Take in the space and even meet the man staying here. This room, it— I paused turning in place to take it all in— invited people to get to know each other in an intimate way that such a large space should not have been able to convey.
Maybe it had something to do with the erotic art on the walls. Each piece large while still feeling subtle. Either way I got the sense that this suite was meant to provide unexpected pleasures...
Shaking my head to clear the sensual images now running through my mind, I turned away from the view and headed to an area of the suite I hoped would be the kitchen. Because I had no doubt a space this size and caliber would have a full-fledged space for my team to work.
However, when I turned the corner I did not find a kitchen. Instead I found myself standing in a room with a bed the size of a lake and a television screen that ran the entire length of the wall above it. Rooted to the spot by what I found, my brain could hardly take it all in. There was simply too much to see.
