Sin Page 9

  Into my purse so I can smell West’s cologne whenever I want.

  “I took care of it.” I wait a beat, and then continue, “I spoke to Jeremy earlier about having the vanilla vodka launch party at the Bishop Hotel in Tribeca. I thought a black-tie affair on their rooftop terrace at dusk would be ideal.”

  My dad’s eyes widen. “Classy and elegant. What was Jeremy’s take on it?”

  I look down at the floor. Every time I hear my dad say his name it’s jarring. He has no idea that I had a one-night stand with West or that I was even in Las Vegas that weekend. He was in Paris with Diane for a two-week anniversary celebration when I jetted off to Sin City.

  “He seemed receptive,” I answer with a sigh. “I’ll put together a more extensive description of the event and possible guest list and we can revisit it the next time we meet with him.”

  He glances at his phone again when it chimes. “Don’t you mean the next time you meet him, sweetheart? That’s tomorrow night, right?

  I arch both brows. “Tomorrow night?”

  He spins his phone’s screen around so it’s facing me. I lean in and read the text message. Twice.

  Jeremy Weston: Linny and I are having dinner tomorrow. I do my best work one-on-one, and Linny understands exactly what I want.

  Jerk.

  “I don’t have to tell you how impressed I am by the initiative you’re showing on this account.” My dad beams as he slips the phone back into his pocket. “You’re making me proud and your granddad would say the same if he were here.”

  My granddad would be horrified if he knew why West was intent on arranging dinner for the two of us behind my back.

  “You’ll fill me in on everything you discuss with Jeremy, won’t you?”

  I stare at my dad. I can’t answer that truthfully so I edge around it. “I’ll put together a condensed version of our conversation about the launch party and have it on your desk first thing Friday morning.”

  “Remember to order a glass of Rizon at the restaurant.” He winks. “Impressing the client is always the end game.”

  I’d normally agree with him, but in this case, beating the client at his own game is a temptation I may not be able to resist.

  “I’ve got this, dad,” I say with no conviction at all.

  “I know you do.” He gives me a curt nod. “You always make me proud.”

  Chapter 21

  Linny

  Jeremy Weston stood me up.

  Dammit. He stood me up after I went to all the trouble of arranging a mini preview party of the vanilla vodka launch.

  I called my contact in guest relations at the Bishop Hotel Tribeca and asked if I could rent the terrace for two hours tonight. She agreed without question, even offering the space for free. I was hoping she would after all the extra work I did for them during the launch of their new hotel on the Lower East Side earlier this year.

  After I blasted out a text invitation to eight of my contacts in the food industry in Manhattan, I set up a private tasting bar for Rizon vanilla vodka.

  The evening was complete with two servers, a decadent platter of caviar, and soft music.

  It was an intimate prelude to the main event. That will take place in a few weeks, on the eve of the vodka’s official launch.

  Everyone at the party was a potential new contact for Jeremy.

  It was a foolproof idea since Jeremy had reached out to me via text late yesterday afternoon telling me that he wanted to meet for dinner at Axel Tribeca at seven p.m. tonight.

  The restaurant is in the same hotel I’m planning on having the launch party, so it seemed like a great way to showcase my idea to him and avoid another round of twenty questions about why I won’t admit I’m the woman he slept with in Vegas.

  I texted him back and said I would see him tonight.

  His reply was instant. He was looking forward to having dinner with me.

  That was the last I heard from him.

  It was Trent who showed up in the lobby of the hotel looking for me with a weak excuse about a situation that only his boss could handle.

  He offered Jeremy’s sincerest apologies before he spent the next two hours telling me how impressed he was by my trial run of the launch party.

  I didn’t do it for him.

  I did it to show West that our relationship is strictly business.

  It’s exhausting pretending I’m not the woman he slept with in Vegas. I don’t know how much longer I can do it, but when I do finally confess, I want there to be an immediate understanding between us.

  He needs to be on the same page as me and that’s one where we don’t fuck again.

  I can’t risk my future over great sex.

  I watch as the last guest boards the elevator that will take them back down to the lobby.

  “I wish Jeremy could have seen this.” Trent waves his arm in the air. “The bright lights of the city, the cool breeze, our vodka flowing freely. The launch party is going to be one for the record books.”

  I skim my palm over the front of the black lace dress I’m wearing. I took more time than I should have getting ready for tonight. Logically, I know that West and I can’t pick up where we left off in Vegas, but I don’t mind the way he looks at me.

  “I took some pictures. I’ll forward them to you so you can show them to Jeremy when you see him.”

  “I’m on my way to see him now.” Trent takes one last sip from his glass, swallowing the vodka that was left. “He’s going to love this, Linny. Seriously, you did a great job.”

  I want to ask if the situation West was dealing with is resolved, but I bite my tongue. I don’t want to admit to myself that I’m disappointed that he didn’t show up. It stings even more than it should because West was under the impression that he was meeting me for a quiet dinner.

  This is exactly what I wanted, so why is it bothering me?

  “Thank you,” I reply with a smile. “I’m glad you could make it tonight.”

  “Me too.” He places the glass down on a table. “I’m going to head out, but I’ll reach out to you early next week to hammer down the details for the launch. I want everything in place before we round the homestretch.”

  I nod in silence.

  Tonight was a big win for my career, so why do I feel like I’ve lost something?

  ***

  “This was just delivered for you, Linny.”

  My head pops up at the sound of Hal’s voice. He’s standing in the open doorway of my office with a broad grin on his face and a square white box in his hands.

  “Loretta wasn’t at her desk.” He glances over his shoulder at my assistant’s empty chair. “I signed for it.”

  I push back from my desk and stand. “Thanks for doing that, Hal. How’s your day going?”

  I only ask because the poor man is on a tight leash held by Mitchell. Hal is brilliant in his own right, but Mitchell has kept him tied to the position of his executive assistant for years.

  Hal would never admit it, but I’m convinced that many of the commendable ideas that Mitchell has come up with were born in Hal’s imagination.

  “You know,” he says with an exaggerated laugh. “It’s Friday, so there’s that.”

  I straighten the skirt of my navy blue dress. “Do you have big weekend plans?”

  “Mitchell’s never asked me that,” he says quietly, pushing the box at me. “I’m going to a film festival in Brooklyn.”

  “Sounds fun.” I glance at the box. There’s nothing on the outside that identifies who sent it. “Did this arrive in an envelope?”

  “No.” He shakes his head. “The delivery guy said he needed a signature from you or your assistant. That’s all I know.”

  Anxiety pricks at me. I’d classify this as a surprise, and as usual, I’m not thrilled by the prospect of that. “Thanks again, Hal.”

  I wait for him to take the hint and leave. He does.

  “Have a good weekend, Linny.”

  “You too,” I say under my breath as he
walks back through the doorway.

  I rush to shut the door, not wanting anyone else to stroll into my office unexpectedly.

  I set the box on my desk and stare at it. Clients have sent me thank you gifts in the past, but this feels different.

  Pulling on the corner of the silver ribbon, I feel my heart beat quicken. I lift the top of the box off to find a pillow of pink tissue paper.

  I pause for a second before I grab two of the ends and separate the paper.

  Something glimmers when the overhead light in my office hits it, just as the realization of what it is, hits me.

  It’s the tiara.

  The plastic, cheap tiara that I had on my head in Las Vegas, and left in West’s hotel suite is now sitting on my desk.

  My hands shake as I reach for the small white envelope tucked next to the tiara. Sliding out the card, I take a deep breath.

  The handwriting is bold and masculine, the message concise and to the point.

  You in this tiara: beautiful.

  You in my bed in Vegas: breathtaking.

  I close my eyes to try and stop the flood of memories of that night. I want it again. I want him again, but that can’t happen.

  I throw the card back into the box, slide the lid on and put it all in the bottom drawer of my desk.

  What happened in Vegas with West is in my past. That’s where it needs to stay.

  Chapter 22

  Jeremy

  The package I sent to Linny should have arrived at her office by now. I called the delivery service myself and gave the guy specific instructions.

  I wanted the box in Linny’s hands, not in anyone else’s, but even the best-laid plan can fall off the rails. I knew there was a slim chance that someone else could inadvertently or deliberately open it.

  I didn’t sign my name on the card for that reason.

  Putting her in a compromising position at work isn’t my intention. It took me a few minutes during our initial meeting in the conference room to realize that she didn’t want her dad knowing about our past connection.

  She was stoic and determined that day, but since then I’ve seen small flashes of the woman I fucked in Las Vegas.

  I was hoping that last night over dinner, she’d finally confess and tell me why in the hell she’s acting like our one-night stand never happened.

  The sole reason can’t be because she’s trying to shield her wild side from her father. If that were the case, she would have dropped the act when we were alone. There’s more to this.

  It’s not that I’m craving the ego boost that comes with a woman remembering how great I am in bed.

  I’m not looking for that with her.

  I want an acknowledgment of what happened between us two months ago so we can have an honest discussion about how to handle our working relationship. Once that’s been established, I want more nights like the one we had in Vegas. I’d bet everything I own, that she does too.

  “I’m back,” Trent announces as he enters my office. “Sorry for running out earlier. Duty called.”

  We sat down an hour ago to go over what happened last night when he went to Axel Tribeca to meet Linny for dinner.

  I sent him in my place because canceling altogether wasn’t an option after I realized I had to bail and after hearing about all the trouble Linny had gone to.

  Julian Bishop, the owner of the Bishop Hotel chain, called me late yesterday afternoon to congratulate me on the upcoming launch of the vanilla vodka.

  He told me that he was happy to offer the terrace free of charge for the intimate tasting party Rizon was having last night.

  Our grandfathers were friends, which carried over to the two of us. We’re not close by any means, but when either of us asks a favor, the other is quick to help.

  “As long as it’s business related, I have no problem with it or with the fact that you’re texting during this meeting,” I say as I point at his phone. “You’re texting, not gaming, right?”

  He looks up, his fingers still tapping out a message on the screen. “I’m locking down an app. It’ll be released the same day as the vanilla vodka launch.”

  “An app? What app?”

  “The Rizon app. It’s going to be primarily user driven. Our customers will be able to pinpoint locations our products are served, upload their vodka cocktail recipes and pictures. That’s basic surface stuff. There’s a lot more to it.” He drops the phone into his pocket. “It was Linny’s idea. She mentioned it last night.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” He takes a seat. “I reached out to a developer today. I told him I need a rush on it. He said he’d do it for the right price.”

  The impulse is there to shut this down before it goes any further, but it’s a viable idea that will broaden our reach. Being outside the loop isn’t a place I’m familiar with, but I’ll defer to Trent on this, only because he’s invested enough in it that I know he’ll see it through.

  “You trust the guy you’re hiring?” I scratch my brow.

  He rubs his palm over his thigh. “He’s already signed all the standard forms. He’ll keep quiet, get the job done and cash his check.”

  “Jot down all the app ideas in an email before you leave for the day and send it to me.”

  “Will do.” He exhales. “I’m glad everything worked out last night.”

  He knows better than to delve into my personal life. He wanted to meet at a coffee shop around the corner from my apartment after he was done at the impromptu tasting party. I turned him down.

  He attempts to play the concerned friend, but that’s not who he is to me. He’s an employee who happened to overhear me talking to my attorney about my father once.

  Since then, I’ve kept him close and paid him well, because I trust that he’ll keep quiet if his bank account is healthy.

  He tugs his phone out of his pocket again. “I’ll send you the pictures I took at the Bishop Tribeca last night. There’s a couple in there that Linny took of the bar setup. We’ll need to work on lighting and bring in some greenery, but overall I think it’s got the look and feel we want for the launch party.”

  I don’t react when I hear a string of chimes from my phone signaling the images he’s sending have arrived.

  “Don’t forget to put that email together before you take off, Trent.”

  He nods, his gaze still glued to his phone. “Will do. I’ll see you on Monday?”

  “If you make it through the weekend.” I laugh as he pushes to his feet. “I heard you’re headed out of town to see your brother.”

  He scrubs a hand over the back of his neck. “My brother, his wife and their six kids. I hope to hell I live through the next two days.”

  Grabbing my phone, I scroll through the pictures he sent as he walks out of my office. I don’t need a refresher on what the terrace at the Bishop Hotel looks like. I’ve been. Twice.

  The first time it was for the wedding of a friend. The second time was a fundraising gala organized by one of the charities I support. I donated the vodka for the event and a sizable check.

  I pause when I reach an image of Linny.

  She’s smiling as she stands next to Trent. From the camera’s angle it’s obvious he’s the one who captured the shot.

  His arm is wrapped around her shoulder. Fuck him.

  Her hair is blowing in the wind.

  She’s not wearing eyeglasses.

  I pinch my fingers against the screen to zoom in on her beautiful face.

  This is what she looked like the night I opened the door of my hotel room in Las Vegas.

  Carefree, wild, uninhibited, and breathtakingly gorgeous.

  I could have been the one with her last night, calling her out on her bullshit.

  I curse under my breath for missing my chance to meet her at Axel Tribeca, but I had no choice.

  I’ll find another opportunity to get Linny alone and when I do, she’s not leaving the room until she admits that we spent the night together.

  Then
, I want a repeat.

  Chapter 23

  Linny

  I race up the sidewalk toward Nova. I was supposed to meet Roland twenty minutes ago, but my Uber driver didn’t show.

  Instead of calling for another car, I hopped on the subway in my new red dress and matching heels.

  It took longer than I expected to walk from the subway station to here, but I finally made it.

  I peer inside the front window of the restaurant but I don’t spot my date anywhere.

  After I opened the box from West, debating whether or not to cancel on Roland ate up most of my afternoon

  I couldn’t get West out of my mind. That made me feel a rush of guilt over meeting another man, but this evening isn’t just about getting to know Roland better.

  It’s a chance for me to enjoy some decadent food, drink good wine and relax after the brutal week I’ve had.

  Taking on a new client is hard enough. When you had an amazing one-night stand with them, it makes everything that much more complicated.

  Everything.

  “Linny, over here.”

  I turn at the sound of Roland’s voice. I recognize it right away, even though nothing about it is extraordinary.

  “Roland,” I call out as I raise my hand in his direction.

  I see him pushing his way through a crowd of people gathered on the sidewalk outside Nova.

  As he approaches, I steel myself for our greeting. We haven’t kissed yet. The only physical contact we’ve had was a handshake the night we met and the brief hug we shared when we said goodbye in this spot almost a week ago.

  He looks nice, handsome.

  He’s dressed in dark jeans, a blue button-down shirt that’s open at the collar and a black blazer.

  Women turn to look at him as he nears me, but those butterflies that I know should be flipping around in my stomach, aren’t there.

  He goes in for a hug and I’m instantly grateful that it’s not more.

  “You look gorgeous.” He pulls back and looks me over. “I have a surprise waiting for you inside.”