Page 6 of Dirty Big Sins

“Zia, are you in here?”

I groaned at the all too familiar voice.

Shit, world. Couldn’t you give me a break at all?

Zack, my producer, was in my suite and no doubt being followed around by at least one if not all the camera operators for the show.

I walked over to the door and pressed my cheek to the smooth wood. “In here.”

I heard the murmured voices a moment before Zack’s voice sounded again from the opposite side. “You doing okay?”

He sounded concerned, but I didn’t trust it. Maybe that wasn’t fair, but what the hell was I supposed to do? Throw myself at the mercy of anyone willing to still talk to me?

My spine stiffened at that. I really needed to pull myself together. Being paranoid wasn’t going to help. Whatever my producer had to say, I could take. This was my show too. If the network pulled the plug, I’d find a way to pick myself up and move on to the next opportunity.

I yanked open the door and plastered a smile I didn’t feel in the slightest across my face.

“What’s up, Zack? Isn’t it a little late for more shooting?”

He didn’t smile or say anything right away. Instead, he studied me until I felt my skin start to itch under his scrutiny.

“You might have some time before anyone figures out it’s you. Especially since your connection to our illustrious champ hasn’t become public knowledgeyet.”

“Uhm—what?”

Zack’s entire demeanor had changed from anything I’d ever seen before. The once easy going director had disappeared to be replaced with someone I didn’t recognize.

“The story online, Zia. You don’t have to be coy with me. I’ve studied you through the lens of a camera and on more screens than I care to count. I probably know the planes of your face and the curve of your neck better than your own parents. A simple blindfold and a few shadows aren’t enough to hide you from the world forever, and it didn’t hide you at all from me. Clark Kent you are not.”

“Oh.” My mouth formed a weird O as my panicked thoughts tried to lock onto something solid. What was I supposed to say? I wasn’t about to get into my private life with my director. What had happened in Italy had zero to do with our show. We were on hiatus then and I was on vacation. Of course I knew better, but I would have liked a few more minutes to bury my head in the sand before the remaining bits of my world exploded.

“Although I did not know that you were the goddaughter to Romeo Rossi. Damn, woman. You are a multi-faceted little gem, aren’t you?”

“No one outside the immediate family knows. The Rossis value their privacy even more than you would think. They may not be able to keep every family member a secret, but it’s not for lack of trying.”

Zack grabbed my hand and led me over to the bar in the far corner of my suite. “I’ll just bet they do. And now I’m intrigued, so why don’t you tell me more and I’ll fix you a drink. You look like you could use it. Maybe we can put our heads together and figure out a way to get both of us through this.”

“You mean without getting fired?”

His steps faltered, but to his credit only for a moment. “Let’s not jump to any conclusions just yet. First drinks, then the story, and then we’ll plan.”

I had to admit that out of all the people in my small circle, Zack would have been one of the last I expected support from. Although I guessed he had a lot riding on the success of this show too. He probably had about as much desire to be unemployed as I did.

As my producer reached for the decanter of whiskey, I took a seat on the opposite side of the counter. He poured three fingers each into two glasses and handed one of them to me.

“Here’s to damage control,” he said tightly before downing every last drop.

I took a small sip and decided to test how my body reacted to it. The last thing I needed was a repeat of what had happened in Vincent’s suite when my stomach revolted.

A warm, but not too hot sensation followed the liquid down my throat. Whiskey wasn’t my normal go to, but the times I did try it were not like this. “What is this?”

“Sixteen-year-old single malt Irish whiskey. Good stuff too.”

I grimaced. “I doubt I can afford this. Especially after tonight.”

Zack poured more into his own glass. “Who cares? Consider it a perk of your stay at The Sinclair. Now here’s to good whiskey and good friends.”

I laughed out loud, clinking my glass to his. “However long that lasts.” As for the friendship part, I didn’t know what to think. Our relationship to this point had been fairly even, but mostly on a professional plane. This was a whole new side to my producer.

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