Rialto Read online

  Rialto

  Jocelynn Drake

  Rinda Elliott

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  Also by Jocelynn Drake and Rinda Elliott

  Also by Jocelynn Drake

  Also by Rinda Elliott

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the authors’ imaginations or are used factiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  RIALTO. Copyright ©2019 Jocelynn Drake and Rinda Elliott. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Jocelynn Drake and Rinda Elliott.

  Cover art by Stephen Drake of Design by Drake.

  Copyedited and proofed by Flat Earth Editing.

  Jocelynn: To Rinda. Thanks for five years of crazy, explosive, sexy, duct-taped adventures.

  Rinda: To Jocelynn. This has been a blast and I look forward to many more adventures with you!

  Acknowledgments

  1 city

  4 men

  8 novels and 4 short story collections

  835,000 words

  Countless emails, phone calls, Skype messages, and cups of coffee.

  Miles of duct tape.

  And so many code names.

  When we started the Unbreakable Bonds series five years ago, we never thought we’d go on the amazing adventure that we have. We’ve fallen in love, laughed, cried, worried, revised, scrapped entire plots, argued, and laughed some more. We’ve gotten the chance to meet and talk with so many wonderful, enthusiastic readers.

  Thank you to everyone who has helped us, cheered us, and answered questions over the years. Thank you to everyone who took a chance on this series and followed us to the end.

  It’s always hard saying good-bye to your favorite characters, but I’m glad that we got to share their lives over the past several years.

  Thank you.

  Chapter One

  Ian stood back, chewing on his bottom lip. Every instinct was driving him to jump in, to offer a bit of advice, to tweak how he was holding the knife a tiny bit. But this was about letting go. He was the chef de cuisine, the Head Chef, and the chef de cuisine did not worry about training the new commis.

  That was the job of the chef de partie, and Isabella was a fantastic line chef. Technically, she was one of his chefs de tournant, which meant that she was skilled and experienced enough to work all the various kitchen stations. She dove into each of Ian’s new recipes and creations with amazing enthusiasm, eager to wow Rialto’s guests.

  But she also had amazing patience and a great way of clearly explaining things. She’d trained two other commis who had come into Ian’s kitchen, but this one was different.

  A gentle hand landed on Ian’s shoulder, and he twisted to find his sous chef, Sean, smiling at him with a knowing amusement in his gaze. “He’s going to do great.”

  Ian gave a little sigh and rolled his eyes at himself. Sean was right. Sean was pretty much always right.

  But it was Wade Addams’s first day as a junior member of Ian’s kitchen at Rialto. The young man had been among the first he’d hired as a server nearly four years ago when he opened. Wade had suffered through a rough childhood, something Ian understood all too well, but he’d flourished at Rialto. Ian had watched the young man’s confidence soar as he excelled at his job and became friends with everyone in the restaurant.

  And in the evenings when the restaurant was quiet, Ian and Wade had bonded over a love of cooking. They swapped recipes and talked about new ideas and techniques.

  Ian knew it was only a matter of time before Wade finally agreed that he was ready to move out of serving and into the kitchen.

  Today, he was beginning his formal training. He was going to start as the garde manger, the pantry chef. It wasn’t exactly an exciting position, since the garde manger was responsible for only cold dishes such as salads, but Ian had added a special duck pâté to the menu for that evening to give Wade a little variety.

  “Of course he is. He’s already a great cook without the formal training,” Ian said stiffly, as if anyone could doubt Wade’s skills.

  “I was thinking that he’s determined to impress you, Chef.”

  Ian could feel embarrassment heat his cheeks lightly. Okay, he had to admit that he had something of a fatherly relationship with his staff at Rialto. He’d met other chefs who ran their kitchens like militant dictators and expected the same brutal manner from their sous chef, but not Ian. The staff at Rialto were a second family to him.

  And yes, he was younger than nearly everyone in his kitchen, but no one seemed to blink an eye at it. Cooking was his life. He’d proved himself time and again with his unique meals and by having the top-rated restaurant in the city of Cincinnati every year since they had opened.

  “Have you decided whether you’re going to keep him here at Rialto or move him to your new restaurant?”

  Ian shook his head. “Wade is staying at Rialto. This kitchen is more formal and will give him the excellent experience he needs to expand his skills. The new place will be smaller, and most of the chefs will be accustomed to working multiple stations. I don’t want to throw that at him yet.”

  Sean nodded, his eyes on Wade and Isabella. “I’m loath to suggest this because she’s amazing, but have you considered Isabella for the sous chef position there? She’s got the experience to handle whatever’s thrown at her and knows when to crack the whip.”

  Grinning, Ian gave his own sous chef a little side-eye. “You’d be willing to give up your right arm so my new restaurant can flourish?”

  “Oh, I plan to bitch and moan endlessly about it,” Sean reassured him and Ian chuckled. “But she is amazing. She’d have your new place running efficiently. Plus, it would mean Rialto would finally have some real competition in this old town.”

  “I agree.”

  He loved having Isabella in his kitchen at Rialto. Sean and Isabella made a formidable team, keeping the entire kitchen working like a well-oiled machine. On the nights Sean was off, either Isabella or Ian slid into his place. Ian had to admit, things tended to be calmer on the nights that Isabella was in charge. Ian’s presence seemed to put everyone a bit on edge; they all wanted to impress the Chef.

  “I’ve been making up my final list of who I might consider moving to the new place and who I’d definitely prefer to keep at Rialto,” Ian continued. “After the dinner rush this evening, can you stop by my office? We can go over it. I’d like to get your thoughts.”

  “Of course, Chef.”

  Regardless of what shifts were made, he’d need to hire new help for both kitchens, and highly trained chefs
were not easy to find in Cincinnati. He was actually considering contacting a headhunter to search the top restaurants in New York City, Los Angeles, and Chicago. The only problem was that those people sometimes brought big-city bad habits and attitudes he didn’t want in his kitchens.

  Ian started to turn toward his office and stopped on a thought. “And bring a bottle of that Argentina Malbec the distributor gave us. I’m not putting it on the menu until we’ve both vetted it.”

  “Sounds like an excellent meeting, Chef,” Sean said before he called out instructions to the boucher.

  Orders were starting to pour in for the next rush. The slow and steady morning prep was giving way to the briskness of lunch. The kitchen buzz wouldn’t die off until about two or three o’clock. More employees would stroll in; a second round of prep would begin as the dinner menu was brought out. It would all pick up again around five, and a controlled chaos would reign until almost ten.

  But Ian didn’t need to worry about the day-to-day activities within the kitchen any longer. Sean was an amazing sous chef and had everything under control. He had a similar view of the kitchen: the employees were family, not a small country to be dominated.

  For nearly a year now, his attention had been split between planning his wedding and planning the opening of his newest restaurant in Over-the-Rhine. It was completely different from Rialto, but it would still have the Ian Pierce flare. Correction, the Ian Banner flare. He was still getting used to his new last name.

  One key difference was that he was doing this restaurant on his own. Well, mostly.

  Billionaire and best friend, Lucas Vallois had been a major investor for Rialto, supplying nearly all the money to get the restaurant off the ground.

  This time, Ian had gotten the loans on his own, though Lucas had still managed to weasel his way in as a minor shareholder of Ian’s new restaurant. Not that Ian could blame him. Lucas had made his investment back many times over on Rialto, and he was expecting to do the same with Ian’s new place.

  With the wedding a blissful success and the honeymoon even more enjoyable, Ian and Hollis had settled comfortably into a busy married life. Ian’s main focus now was getting his new restaurant successfully launched in a few months.

  Ian stopped on the way to his office, catching sight of his husband as he walked through the front door of Rialto. Even after four months, there was still a part of him that gave a less-than-dignified squeal at the thought that Hollis Banner was now his husband. They belonged together. Ian had felt it the first moment he spotted the former police detective standing in Lucas’s penthouse, grilling his friend over a supposed mugging. The poor man had been sick as a dog and should have been in bed, but Hollis wasn’t the type of person to let a little thing like a cold slow him down when he had his mind set on something.

  As he strolled into the restaurant, Hollis winked at Carla and Anthony at the hostess stand, his grin wide and pointed directly at Ian. Hollis had a way of making Ian feel like he was the center of his entire world. Entire universe.

  His man—his husband—was dressed in a pair of dark-blue jeans that were molded to his muscular thighs and were likely hugging his gorgeous ass just right. His black T-shirt was stretched over his wide chest and clung to his arms as he carried in a large box, balanced on his left shoulder. For early September, the weather was still more like summer than fall, with the temperature cresting each day at the mid-eighties, but the nights were becoming surprisingly brisk already.

  “What are you doing here, Mr. Banner? Don’t you have a job you should be at?” Ian teased as Hollis reached him.

  “Is it so wrong that I wanted to see my husband at work?” Hollis replied. He leaned down and grabbed Ian’s lips in a quick kiss.

  Ian reluctantly let the kiss end and was already making plans to drag Hollis to his office, but he couldn’t completely pull his eyes from the box Hollis was carrying.

  “What’s in the box?”

  “I stopped by the house to pick up that paperwork we need notarized. Totally forgot it this morning,” Hollis muttered as he lowered the box from his shoulder to hold it in front of his waist. “And I found this waiting on our doorstep. I think it’s the extra copies of the magazine we ordered.”

  “Yes!” Ian shouted, pumping one fist in the air. He winced, pressing his lips together when he realized he’d broken the hushed tone of his restaurant.

  Looking around, Ian spotted an open table off to the side of the dining area and waved Hollis over to it. As Hollis moved toward the table with the box, Ian hurried to Carla as she was already walking toward him with a questioning smile. “Could you get me some scissors, please?” She nodded and scurried off as fast as she could in her black pumps.

  Ian joined Hollis at the table, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. The Cincinnati Edge was a highly read magazine for the city that had regular features on important events within the city as well as its movers and shakers. Lucas had already had two write-ups in the magazine, including a big, glossy spread on his wedding almost two years ago.

  When the editor reached out to Ian last spring asking if he’d be willing to sit down for an extended interview, Ian had been over the moon. The reporter had been so pleasant and funny that Ian had no problem talking about Rialto, the men he considered his family, and his sexy husband-to-be. The interview was just supposed to be about him, Rialto, and a little hint of the new restaurant he was opening at the end of the year, but it had all coincided with his wedding, so the reporter and photographer had also attended.

  As a result, the three-page article turned into a massive eight-page spread with beautiful glossy pictures of his restaurant, home, and wedding. It was gorgeous and positively glowing. The reporter made his life sound like a fairy tale from a veiled rough start straight to the happily ever after.

  And Ian couldn’t argue with it. Sometimes he looked at his life, and it all seemed too good to be true. He’d been so lucky to have found Lucas as well as Ashton Frost and Rowan Ward. Those men were his cornerstone from which all the happy parts of his life had been built.

  He worked hard for his success. He studied hard to become a great chef, and he’d studied even harder under Lucas’s tutelage to be a great business manager. He’d managed to get over his past so that he could have an amazing life with Hollis. The magazine article was a stunning reminder that he’d achieved his dreams and so much more.

  As they stood waiting for Carla to bring over the scissors, Hollis stepped behind Ian and wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling him in tight while pressing a kiss to his jaw. “So proud of you, baby,” Hollis murmured.

  Ian huffed a soft laugh. “We’ve already seen the article. It’s been on newsstands for nearly two weeks. These are just our copies for the restaurant.”

  “And I’m still proud of my sexy, rising-star husband.”

  “Oh, God. The cute! It burns!” Carla teased as she approached them with a shiny pair of silver scissors in her hand.

  Hollis straightened, only partially releasing Ian as they turned at the sound of her voice. “You’re just jealous that Valerie hasn’t made an honest woman out of you yet.”

  “And I’m fine to work at Valerie’s speed,” Carla said, her expression smug. “She’s moved into my house and she’s never getting out again, even if we never get married.”

  Ian accepted the scissors and smiled. “That’s my girl.”

  “Yes, trap her in your kinky lesbian web.”

  “Ian, your husband is insane.” Carla stepped closer as Ian cut through the tape securing the flaps of the box.

  “That’s why I love him.” He put aside the scissors and pulled back the flaps to reveal two neat stacks of the magazine. On the cover was a picture of Ian lounging at a candlelit table at Rialto. He’d chosen a Prada suit for the Rialto photo shoot and gone for something more casual at home. His entire wedding party had been dressed in Armani tuxes for the event, even if he’d had to threaten Rowe with physical harm to get him into the suit in th
e first place.

  “Oh wow,” Carla whispered in awe. “They look beautiful.”

  “You don’t think it’s too pretentious to have them in the lobby for the guests?”

  “No,” Hollis said immediately.

  “Definitely not,” Carla added. “Your loyal customers will be excited for you, and everyone will feel a little more special because they managed to get a table at your restaurant.”

  “It all feels like a crazy dream.” Ian reached into the box and started to grab a stack of magazines for Carla. She would be able to artfully decorate the restaurant’s small lobby with them and keep more at the hostess stand to replenish as they disappeared.

  Before he could get his fingers around them, there was a burst of noise from the front of the restaurant. They turned as one to see a bunch of men in what looked to be body armor, with weapons drawn, surge into the restaurant and immediately fan out. Customers enjoying their lunch gasped and cried out in shock.

  Ian stood transfixed for a heartbeat, his entire body locked up in horror. It was a police raid. The police were storming his restaurant, but he couldn’t imagine why. Horror gave way to rage as Ian spotted a man wearing a bulletproof vest rather than body armor with ICE emblazoned in yellow across the front.

  It wasn’t a police raid. It was fucking immigration.

  Someone had called immigration on Rialto.

  Ian charged across the restaurant, heading straight for the man with salt-and-pepper hair who was giving orders. He was vaguely aware of Hollis right on his heels, and he only hoped both of them didn’t end up in jail. Neither were good about keeping their tempers when there was an injustice. And ICE storming Rialto was an absolute crime.