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    New Day Dawning
    New Day Dawning
    New Day Dawning
    Ebook160 pages2 hours

    New Day Dawning

    By Christiane France

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Nick Gregorio is at a crossroads in his life. When former lover, Al Martinsen, pays him a visit wanting to make up, Nick makes it clear for that to happen Al will have to move to Vegas. Giving up his job at The Neapolitan Hotel and returning to their hometown to resume playing second fiddle to Al's ambitions is not an option.

    Six weeks later, with no further word from Al, Nick doesn't know if Al meant what he said, or if his silence says it all. Then he learns something about Al that sends him reeling with shock. Nick knew Al had allowed ambition to dominate his life, but to discover Al has committed the ultimate betrayal is too much.

    In desperation, Nick looks for temporary oblivion at a local club where things turn nasty and violent. A situation that could have had a different ending if not for the intervention of Trip Browning, Nick's boss at The Neapolitan. Trip has been a good friend to Nick since Nick's arrival in Vegas. And as he helps Nick to get over the incident and resume work planning the gala opening of The Neapolitan's newest restaurant, Trip delivers a surprise of his own. One that sends Nick's world spinning in a whole different direction...

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherChristiane France
    Release dateAug 31, 2018
    ISBN9781386902546
    New Day Dawning

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      Book preview

      New Day Dawning - Christiane France

      New Day Dawning

      Nick Gregorio is at a crossroads in his life. When his former lover, Al Martinsen, came to Vegas wanting to make up, Nick was prepared to listen. For Nick, however, returning to their hometown to resume playing second fiddle to Al’s ambitions was not an option, and he suggested Al move to Vegas permanently.

      Six weeks have passed with no word from Al, and Nick doesn’t know what to think. Is Al still considering moving to Vegas, or does his silence say it all? When Nick finally receives news about Al, it sends him reeling with shock, anger and total despair. He knew Al had allowed ambition to dominate his life, but even he found it hard to believe Al would go so far as to commit the ultimate betrayal. There’s no going back for either of them now.

      In desperation, Nick looks for temporary oblivion in the form of a night out that turns nasty and violent. Fortunately for Nick, his new friend and boss, Trip Browning, comes to his aid. With Trip’s support, Nick is able to resume work planning the gala opening of The Neapolitan’s newest restaurant. That is, until Trip delivers a surprise of his own and sends Nick’s world spinning in a whole different direction... 

      # # #

      New Day Dawning

      Third Edition

      This book was previously published as Independence Day. The author has not changed.

      This book is a work of fiction. While references to actual places or events may occur, the names, characters, incidents and locations are from the author’s imagination and any resemblance to anyone, living or dead, is coincidental.

      New Day Dawning

      Copyright © 2011, 2016, 2018 Christiane France

      Cover art © 2018 KC Kendricks

      All Rights Reserved

      Reproduction of this digital e-book for file sharing or selling, regardless of whether any type of currency is exchanged, other than what the author grants, is strictly prohibited by law. Piracy is a crime.

      WARNING: This book is intended for readers over the age of 18.

      It contains explicit sexual content and language.

      New Day Dawning

      Chapter One

      Nick Gregorio leaned against the counter and idly played with a pen while he waited for the waitress to finish cleaning up the sticky mess of a spilled banana-caramel smoothie and straighten the spindly French café-style chairs.

      He glanced again at the clock on the far wall. Eight forty-six. Two minutes since he’d last looked and still another fourteen to go before he could close Butterscotch Dreams café for the night and get the hell out of here. He could hardly wait. He’d been restless and uneasy from the moment he got out of bed that morning—jumpy, unable to concentrate on anything for more than a second or two. The same unpleasant queasy feeling of impending doom he got while waiting for the results of a test.

      Maybe it was the result of eating those extra-spicy wings that had mysteriously found their way into his takeout order last night. Nothing else he could think of that would make him feel this way. Like his whole world was about to crash and burn. He had a secure job managing a café at the Neapolitan Hotel, money in the bank, and his bills were all paid on time. Also on the plus side, he had no dark secrets, nothing on his conscience, guilty or otherwise, and he wasn’t being stalked or harassed by an ex-lover or anyone else.

      At least, not that he was aware of.

      He hadn’t been living in Las Vegas that long, just a few months, and most of that time had been spent organizing and opening Butterscotch Dreams, the hotel’s latest specialty café. The few people he knew were either fellow hotel employees or casual acquaintances rather than actual friends. And what currently passed for a love life hadn’t progressed beyond a few hookups he’d found at the bars over on Paradise and Flamingo when he was really desperate. Brief, no exchange of names or any other info type relationships that gave him the sexual release he wanted and nothing more.

      He was just stressed from proving himself in the new job. He needed to relax and chill out for a while. Spend a couple of hours in the hotel gym after work and try a few of the new machines he’d noticed on his last visit. Later, when he got home, a long, hot shower and a couple of drinks should do the trick and have him right back on track.

      Hey, Nick, how goes it?

      Good. Nick put down the pen and smiled as Trip Browning, director of personnel for the food and beverage division of the Neapolitan Hotel, came into the café and sat at the counter. Trip was also the person who’d hired him. Something I can do for you, sir?

      Trip returned his smile, and Nick felt a warm rush of genuine affection. Trip was one cool dude who looked every bit the California surfer boy he’d confessed to having been as a teenager—slim, tanned, nicely muscled body, topped with a professionally coiffed mop of sun-streaked blond hair.

      Actually, it’s the other way around this time.

      Oh, yeah?

      If Nick could count one person as a friend since coming to live here in Vegas, then it was Trip. After hiring Nick as launch manager and dessert chef for Butterscotch Dreams, Trip had helped Nick find a home by introducing him to the manager of an apartment complex just a short walk from the hotel. Although Trip had promised Nick’s current job would only be temporary until something better suited to his training and experience opened up, Nick hadn’t really believed him. He’d figured it for the standard speech given to any over-qualified new employee.

      Then one night about a week later, he and Trip had found themselves sitting at the same poker table over at Caesar’s Palace, and later they’d gone for a drink together. Since then, a few hands of poker and a couple of drinks had become their regular Saturday-night routine.

      From what he’d heard one of the waitresses saying, Trip’s wife had died not long ago, leaving him with a young son. The two of them now lived with Trip’s mom so she could take care of the boy. Presumably, the story was true, but Trip hadn’t mentioned anything, and Nick hadn’t asked. He wasn’t one to pry into people’s lives by asking personal questions, and neither, it seemed, was Trip. For sure, Trip loved to talk, but it was always about anything and everything except himself, and that suited Nick just fine.

      You’ve found a new place for us to play tomorrow night?

      No. Trip’s smiled widened. Just wanted to give you heads-up on a couple of new opportunities I thought may interest you. That’s if you’re tired of creating even more delicious new desserts and inventing yet another in your endless variety of exotic smoothies.

      If Nick were to tell the truth, he wouldn’t care if he never saw another smoothie again. Try me.

      Silvia has had her heart set on opening a seafood restaurant for some time now. For that I need a particular kind of chef—someone experienced with both seafood and traditional Italian cuisine. She wants it modeled on a place in Italy where her family used to go when she was young.

      Silvia DiMarco was the owner of the Neapolitan. And Nick knew if Silvia wanted something... She wants an Italian seafood restaurant?

      That’s what she says. Complete with singing waiters and dancing bears if she has her way, I wouldn’t wonder.

      And the other? Nick inquired.

      I don’t want to lose you, Nick, but you’re bound to hear about it sooner or later, so it might as well come from me. There have been whispers about the Bellagio opening another specialty restaurant sometime soon. The story’s made the rounds so many times over the past year, it’s probably just another rumor. But if it’s true, they’ll be needing someone with your experience.

      Nick frowned. What you’re saying is Silvia’s idea is a for sure, and the Bellagio’s a maybe?

      Trip nodded. That about sums it up.

      Then forget Bellagio. I’ll go with Silvia. Sounds like something I’d enjoy.

      You’ll take the job?

      Love to. The restaurant I owned specialized in seafood. Nick still wasn’t sure if he’d done the right thing by selling the place and coming down here to Vegas, but it was too late now. My deep-fried calamari was a big seller.

      That’s great. Between your experience with Italian cuisine and your knowledge of seafood, you’re just what I need to make Silvia’s project a reality. Did you also have singing waiters?

      Nick laughed and shook his head. No, just a mad Italian-Canadian sous-chef who thought he was Caruso, and a talking bird who came with the fixtures. Thankfully, someone had the good sense to move the bird’s cage near an open window, and it developed permanent laryngitis.

      What did the bird say?

      Nick grinned, remembering. Stupid thing screamed, ‘Greedy pig, greedy pig,’ every time a customer sat down at a table and picked up the menu. Needless to say, not too many people found it amusing.

      I guess not. Trip hesitated. So—

      Before Trip could finish whatever it was he’d intended to say, a man appeared in the restaurant doorway, and Nick stared in shock. In a flash, Trip, Butterscotch Dreams, the hotel and everything that was Vegas disappeared. Nick was back in The Marinated Mushroom, the restaurant he’d owned up north until a few months ago.

      Chapter Two

      Nick’s breath caught in his throat, and his heart did some form of scary double-clutch. He gripped the edge of the counter for support. No wonder he’d been feeling so edgy and off-balance. It wasn’t those extra-spicy wings, and it wasn’t the stress of the new job. It was that fucking annoying ESP thing that came from having an Irish mind-reading grandmother on his mom’s side of the family and an Italian crystal-ball gazer on his dad’s. A non-fail combination that almost always warned Nick when something earth-shattering was about to happen.

      Al? Nick’s mouth was dry, and he barely recognized his voice as his own. How in hell did you find me?

      Alan Martinsen favored Nick with a chilly, thin-lipped version of his well-remembered, trademark smile—a heart-stopping combination of beautiful, deep-set, dark eyes, a handsome, nicely tanned face, and flashing white teeth that had turned Nick to mush on more than one occasion.

      Well, babe, since you didn’t bother to leave a forwarding address and there was no trail of breadcrumbs for me to follow, it wasn’t easy. But not to worry, I managed just fine. I have a ton of contacts, connections, and ways of finding whatever might try to elude me.

      Nick tried for a smile of his own. Meaning what? Don’t tell me you hired a PI?

      No. Something much better and far more reliable than that, and it didn’t cost me a cent.

      Al hesitated, his smile widening a fraction, but remaining as stiff as the painted grin on a store mannequin. It just so happens that one of the secretaries was down here on vacation. Said she was positive it was you she’d seen working here, slopping sodas, or whatever the correct term is. I believe her exact words were, ‘You remember that skanky client of yours who used another law firm when he sold his restaurant and disappeared? Well, guess what? I just saw the miserable SOB working at this cheesy place in Vegas.’

      Nick gripped the edge of the counter, determined not to lose it despite the fact he knew Al was deliberately trying to provoke him. Those were her exact words?

      Al had the grace to look faintly embarrassed. Maybe not one hundred percent exact. But as close as I can remember.

      And so you came down here to see if what she told you was true? Nick countered, feeling slightly better now he had a handle on his temper.

      He’d always had Al represent him in any legal matters, but when it came to the sale of the restaurant, the choice of a lawyer hadn’t been Nick’s. The new purchaser’s brother was a lawyer, and it had been a condition of the sale that the brother complete the transaction. From Nick’s perspective, the provision had worked in perfectly with his decision to just sell

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