Afterburn

Nico set two flutes in front of us, then filled them halfway with bubbling champagne. “You’re right,” he said, butting in.

Lei caught the stem of her glass and stroked it with her fingers. Her gaze caught mine. Nico, who was good at knowing when to disappear, moved down the bar.

“To get back to what you said...” she began. I started to cringe, then straightened up. Lei Yeung hadn’t made a special trip just to berate me. “Ian underestimated me, but he didn’t take advantage of me. Blaming him would give him too much credit. I left the door open and he walked through it.”

I nodded. The exact circumstances of their split were private, but I’d inferred a lot from the reports in industry magazines and filled in the rest from gossip columns and blogs. Together they’d had a culinary empire comprised of a stable of celebrity chefs, several restaurant chains, a line of cookbooks and affordable cookware that sold in the millions. Then Pembry had announced the launch of a new chain of eateries bankrolled by A-list actors and actresses—but Lei hadn’t been part of that.

“He taught me a lot,” she went on. “And I’ve come to realize he got as much out of that as I did.” She paused, thoughtful. “I’m getting too used to myself and the way I’ve always done things. I need fresh eyes. I want to feed off someone else’s hunger.”

“You want a protégée.”

“Exactly.” Her mouth curved. “I didn’t realize that until you pointed it out. I knew I was looking for something, but I couldn’t say what it was.”

I was totally thrilled but kept my tone professional. I swiveled toward her. “I’m in, if you want me.”

“Forget about normal hours,” she warned. “This isn’t a nine-to-five gig. I’ll need you on weekends, and I might call in the middle of the night.... I work all the time.”

“I won’t complain.”

“I will.” Angelo came up behind us. All the Rossi sons had figured out who I was talking to and, as usual, none of them were shy. “I need to see her every once in a while.”

I elbowed him. We shared a sprawling, half-finished loft apartment in Brooklyn—all three of my brothers, me and Angelo’s wife, Denise. Most of the time we bitched about seeing one another too often.

Lei thrust out her hand and introduced herself to Nico and Angelo, then to my mom, who had wandered back over to see what the fuss was about. My dad and Vincent gave shout-outs through the service window. A menu was set in front of Lei, along with a basket of fresh bread and olive oil imported from a small farm in Tuscany.

“How’s the panna cotta?” Lei asked me.

“You’ll never have better,” I replied. “Have you already had dinner?”

“Not yet. Lesson number one—life’s too short. Don’t put off the good stuff.”

I bit on my lower lip to hold back a grin. “Does that mean I got the job?”

She held up her flute with a brisk nod. “Cheers.”

Chapter 2

One year later...

“GOD, THE RUSH,” Lei said, her feet tapping beneath the dining table. “It never gets old.”

I grinned, having caught the bug from her over the months we’d been working together. We’d experienced a lot of highs, but today—a cloudless late-September afternoon—was special. After months of finessing and wooing, we were going to close a deal that would snag two of Ian Pembry’s brightest stars. Payback for what he’d done to Lei long ago and a major coup for us.

Lei had dressed for the occasion and so had I. Her Diane von Fürstenberg wrap dress was vintage and her signature red. Paired with black boots, she looked fierce and sexy. I debuted a dark gold shell snagged from Donna Karan’s fall collection and the cigarette pants the designer had paired with them. The ensemble was chic and reflected a new me, a Gianna who’d evolved a lot over the previous year.

Impatient to finalize everything, I looked toward the entrance of the hotel bar and felt a surge of adrenaline when the Williams twins appeared as if on cue. Brother and sister made a striking pair, with auburn hair and jade-green eyes. They were a great team in the kitchen, having made a name for themselves with down-home Southern cooking updated with gourmet ingredients. The package they presented sold deluxe books and cute little tins of seasonings, but the truth wasn’t so pretty. Behind the scenes, they hated each other.

And that had been Pembry’s fatal mistake with his dynamic duo. He told them to suck it up and make it work, because they were making millions off their sibling success story. Lei had offered them what they really wanted—the chance to split up and shine on their own, while still capitalizing on their supposedly playful rivalry. Her plan was to build a chain of restaurants with dueling kitchens in the world-famous Mondego casinos and resorts.

“Chad. Stacy,” Lei greeted, rising to her feet along with me. “You’re both looking fabulous.”

Chad came over and pressed a kiss to my cheek before he even said hello to Lei. He’d been flirting with me for a while and it had become part of our negotiations with him.

I’ll admit I’d been tempted to do more than flirt on occasion, but thoughts of his sister retaliating held me back. Chad wasn’t a saint by any means, nursing a fierce ambitious streak. But Stacy was a real piece of work and she hated me more than her brother. Despite all my friendly overtures, she’d taken an instant dislike to me and that had seriously hindered the whole process.

Personally, I suspected she was sleeping with Ian Pembry—or had been once—and was carrying a torch for him. I thought that was why she didn’t like Lei, either, but maybe she was just one of those females who hated other women.

“I hope your rooms are comfortable,” I said, knowing damn well they were. The Four Seasons didn’t have its five-star reputation for nothing.

Stacy shrugged, her glossy hair sliding over her shoulder. She had an angelic face, pale with a smattering of freckles that were adorable. It was disconcerting how someone so sweet and innocent-looking, with a syrupy Southern accent, could be such a raging bitch. “They’re all right.”

Chad rolled his eyes and held out my chair for me. “They’re great. I slept like a rock.”

“I didn’t,” his sister griped, sliding gracefully into her chair. “Ian kept calling. He knows something’s up.”

She slid a side glance at Lei, as if gauging the impact of her words.

“Of course he does,” Lei agreed easily. “He’s a smart man. Which is why I’m surprised he didn’t do more to keep you both happy. He knows better.”

Stacy pouted. Chad winked at me. Usually I didn’t find winking cute, but it worked for him. Part of his good-ole-boy charm that was tempered by how sexy he was. There was something about him that hinted he might spank you with a spatula as expertly as he cooked with one.

“Ian did a lot for us,” Stacy contended. “I feel disloyal.”

“You shouldn’t. You haven’t signed anything yet,” I said, having learned reverse psychology worked best with her oppositional nature. “If you feel that your identity as the Williams twins has more potential than being Stacy Williams, you should absolutely go with your gut. It’s got you this far, after all.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Lei’s lips twitch with a repressed smile. It gave me a thrill that she was pleased, since she’d taught me pretty much everything I knew about herding egos where we wanted them to go.

“Don’t be an ass, Stace,” Chad muttered. “You know this casino deal is a prime opportunity for us.”

“Yes, but it may not be the only opportunity,” she argued. “Ian says we need to give him a chance to deliver.”

“You told him?” her brother snapped, scowling. “For fuck’s sake, the decision isn’t just yours to make! This is my goddamn career, too!”

I shot a worried glance at Lei, but she just gave a nearly imperceptible shake of her head. I couldn’t believe how cool and unruffled she looked, considering this deal would be the one to finally even the score between her and her mentor-turned-nemesis.

The Hollywood eateries Ian had pulled out from under her went bust when the celebrity investors got over the novelty of it and went looking for other tax shelters that didn’t involve personal appearances. And two of his heavy-hitter chefs had gone back to their home countries, leaving a lot riding on the young shoulders of the Williams twins.

“The Mondego deal is exclusive to Savor, of course,” Lei said. “What’s Ian offering you?”

What the hell had gone wrong? I glanced between the two siblings, and then at my boss. I had the contracts in my lucky satchel under the table. We were in the home stretch and suddenly our prime bet was backing away.

Later on, I’d recognize the ripple of awareness that shimmered across my skin for what it was. At the time, I thought it was foreboding, my instincts warning me that the deal had tanked long before we’d sat down at the table.

Then, I saw him.

Everything in me stilled, as if the predator couldn’t see me if I didn’t move. He came into the bar with a sultry stride that made my hands curl into fists beneath the tablecloth. That walk of his was easy and smooth, confident. And yet it somehow signaled to the female brain that he was packing heat between those long, strong legs and knew how to use it.

God, did he.