Page 39 of Dirty Big Sins

Join us. It’s not a request.

~C~

Fuck. These people interfering in my life were like bad pennies. They kept showing the fuck up. Now I was torn between answering this summons and going to Zia. For both our sakes, I chose the mafia boss. If I pissed him off by refusing, there was a good chance he’d have me hunted down and dragged back out here at gun point.

That was not something I wanted her to get involved in.

Still. I needed to know if she was okay.

“Do you know the whereabouts of Zia?” I doubted I needed to explain who she was. Gabe’s high roller employees were very good at what they did and they knew the comings and goings at their hotels more than anyone else on the premises.

My request startled him for a moment, but he quickly recovered. “Give me a moment, sir. I’ll check for you.” He stepped a discreet distance away and then pulled out his phone. He spoke to someone on the other side for about twenty seconds and then he returned.

“It appears she’s in the bar with Ms. Nova. Shall I get a message to her?”

She couldn’t go out to dinner with me, but had time for drinking with her girlfriend? I clenched my jaw at the notion I’d been blown off. Well, we’d see about that.

“No, that’s not necessary. I do, however, think I’m going to join the game you suggested.”

His face lit up before he led me across the floor to the private rooms set up away from the open hotel floors. The constant din of the previous room silenced as we entered the players’ paradise.

“It’s right through here, sir. Is there anything I can get you? Drinks, food?”

We’d stopped in front of one of the largest player rooms, the one I knew was reserved at all times for the upper echelon of players. Whether that be the pro gamers, the celebrities, or in the case of Cullotta, the mobsters.

Before I joined the game, I had one thing I needed done. Texting the head of my private security team I tapped out the task I needed him to do. With that done and a smirk stamped on my face, I shoved my phone back into my pocket and pushed into the room.

Checkmate. Let’s see how she reacts to that.

Chapter Eighteen

ZIA

By the timeI stumbled my way out of the kitchen, I finally realized we’d been going for twelve hours straight with no breaks. I couldn’t remember if I’d eaten anything beyond my toast this morning, but I was pretty sure I hadn’t. I’d sent everyone home and now it was my turn.

I needed food, sleep and some good wine. Although maybe not in that order.

I turned off the last of the lights and closed the restaurant behind me. As I headed toward the elevator, I thought of Vincent and where he might be. Here in the hotel? Or maybe he went home.

His house had been breathtaking. I hoped I got another chance to visit him there. Maybe cook for him in his own kitchen. It was impossible to pass final judgement on a home without actually cooking a meal. It was the test I performed every chance I got.

As I passed the main hotel bar, my stomach grumbled loud enough that the woman standing a few feet away peeked a glance at me on a laugh. Okay, food was definitely in order and tonight I was too tired to cook. Room service was an option, but that could be a substantial wait depending on how busy they were.

I changed direction and headed inside the bar. I could kill two birds with one stone. I’d order dinner to go and while I waited on it, I could get started on the copious amount of wine I’d planned to consume.

The bar had a strong crowd tonight, but it thankfully wasn’t wall to wall. I zeroed in on an empty stool at the bar and quickly occupied it.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asked only a few short minutes later.

“A glass of Napa Valley Bordeaux please and a menu. I’m going to order some food to go.”

“Sure thing. He reached under the bar for a menu and then rushed off to make drinks and take more orders. I perused my options and settled on a lettuce wrapped jalapeño infused burger and a house salad with twenty-year aged balsamic vinaigrette on the side. Now as soon as the bartender returned I’d be ready with my selection and hopefully in about thirty minutes or less, I’d be sliding into a bubble bath with a full belly and a bottle of red from my own fridge and maybe a good book.

Although I seriously doubted I would stay awake long enough for all that.

The wait went from a couple of minutes to five, and then ten and then fifteen. I was about to give up when the bartender slid the glass of wine in front of me.

“I’m really sorry that took so long. We’re a little short-handed tonight. What can I get started for you in the kitchen?” If not for my noisy stomach, I would have begged off and went to my room. The longer I sat idle, the more the fatigue washed over me. I placed my order and then decided I’d put my waiting time to good use by updating my Instagram and seeing what messages I’d missed. I was falling behind on social media and I needed to keep some buzz going for the restaurant opening.

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