Remembering passion sinc.., p.1
Remembering Passion: Sinclair Duet, page 1
Sinclair Duet: Book One
A workplace, billionaire, grumpy/sunshine contemporary-suspense romance
ALEATHA ROMIG
New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author
COPYRIGHT AND LICENSE INFORMATION
REMEMBERING PASSION
Copyright @ 2023 Romig Works, LLC
2023 Edition
ISBN: 9781956414660
Editing: Lisa Aurello
Proofreading: Stacy Zitano Inman
Cover Art: RBA Designs/ Romantic Book Affairs
Formatting: Romig Works LLC
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any informational storage and retrieval system, without the written permission from the copyright owner.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
2023 Edition License
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment. This eBook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the appropriate retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's hard work.
DISCLAIMER
For the purposes of Damien and Gabriella’s story, Beta Kappa Phi is a fictitious fraternity. Any resemblance to an actual fraternity is accidental and unintentional. In other words, this is fiction. Enjoy.
REMEMBERING PASSION
Damien Sinclair is a force of nature—the beauty of a sunset over the ocean yet capable of devastating hurricane-strength winds. At one time, he’d held my heart in his hands. That was, until the day I walked away.
I didn’t leave him because I didn’t love him. It was that loving him was too much, an all-encompassing affair. In his presence, I ceased to exist.
For two years, I worked to build a life free from Damien’s irresistible pull. I succeeded until one fate-filled afternoon I found myself seated by his side for a long flight. Unbelievably, we were headed to the same destination. His sinfully charming smile, charisma, and devilish smirk reminded me of all we’d shared.
Attraction.
Desire.
Passion.
Forgetting him had been agony.
Will I survive remembering?
Have you been Aleatha’d?
The Sinclair Duet is a scorching hot, second-chance romance filled with the suspense and intrigue you’ve come to expect from New York Times bestselling author Aleatha Romig.
*REMEMBERING PASSION is book one, closely followed by book two of the Sinclair duet, REKINDLING DESIRE.
“Be unreasonable, follow your passion.” ~ Sudha Murty
NOTE FROM ALEATHA~
REMEMBERING PASSION is book one of the Damien Sinclair Duet. The first seven chapters were previously published as the novella “Lucky Day” or “Falling Again.”
If you read “Lucky Day” or “Falling Again” before the novella was taken down, you can begin at Chapter 8. “Falling Again ends in the middle of this chapter.
If missed the novella or you haven’t read “Lucky Day” or “Falling Again” today is your lucky day because you can read it here. Begin reading at Chapter 1.
Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoy Damien and Gabriella’s story, the Damien Sinclair Duet.
Gabriella
Running an obstacle course, I hurried through the airport, my cocktail dress flying behind me, and my carry-on—holding my personal satchel—rolling along the tile. If I ran faster, there was the possibility the wheels would spark, sending the contents of my suitcase up in flames. The line through security took what seemed like forever, giving me less than thirty minutes to reach the gate before the doors closed, leaving me stranded.
Thankfully, Indianapolis didn’t have a large airport.
I’d lived near Indianapolis for the past five years. After working for the devil himself, I’d found new employment at a nonprofit north of the city in the smaller city of Carmel. No, it wasn’t pronounced the same as the city in Monterey, but that didn’t stop the residents from believing they were the elite suburb of Indianapolis.
That new position was why I was running through the airport, looking more than a bit disheveled and racing toward gate A-14. Despite truly liking my current career move, I’d spent all morning with an intern who didn’t know one thing about running financial reports. He’d actually asked me how a nonprofit could provide salaries, as if he thought we were all there because of our love for the international fraternity. Don’t misunderstand, the objectives to promote the concepts of health, knowledge, and humanity were worth our efforts. But the salary was why we stayed.
While other associates of mine were already in Los Angeles, I would be the last to arrive. That didn’t mean I hadn’t put in the time and effort to make tonight’s gala a success. I had.
There was much more to my position in the Beta Kappa Phi fraternity than running payroll reports. A few of the pieces to the puzzle were schmoozing with alumni, securing donations, and maintaining relationships with sponsors.
Panting while trying to catch my breath, I slid to a stop at the counter in front of the door to gate A-14. All the seats in the area were empty. “Please don’t tell me I’m too late,” I said, my words labored.
The woman in the blue blouse shook her head. “It’s your lucky day.”
Blowing the rogue flyaway hair from my face, I sighed. “Not so far. I guess that means up is the only way to go.” I lifted my phone with my boarding pass to the sensor. Instead of green, a red light flashed.
“Lucky day,” I reminded her.
Looking at the computer screen, her forehead furrowed as she confirmed, “Ms. Crystal?”
I nodded.
“Give me a second. I’ll be right back.”
With the circulation of my fingers cut off from holding the hanger of my garment bag, I laid the bag over my arm and watched as the woman disappeared down the jet bridge toward the plane. Other travelers milled up and down the terminal at normal speeds, suggesting they weren’t in as big of a hurry as I’d been.
With each passing minute, my level of anxiety rose. My schedule was too tight for error. My itinerary had one layover. My second flight would arrive in LA by five thirty, Pacific time. That gave me just enough time to check in to my hotel, shower, transform myself into the competent representative for Beta Kappa Phi, and make it to cocktails in the ballroom by seven. The gala began at eight. Despite other associates being present, I had a role to perform.
I couldn’t miss my flight.
The Beta Kappa Phi annual gala was the national dinner and ceremony held each year at a different location. I wasn’t only attending but was presenting an award to a donor—a big donor—from Wisconsin. I knew his name and during my flight planned to read his biography to be more familiar with him.
Finally, the door to the jet bridge opened. The expression on the airline lady’s face wasn’t encouraging.
“Is there a problem?” I asked.
Her fingers typed feverishly over her computer before she looked up. “Your seat was moved. The only empty seat is between two mothers with small children.”
Of course it was.
I feigned a grin. This was only the first leg of my trip, a two-hour flight. I could do it. “No worries. I’m the best aunt in the world—just ask my niece. It will be fine.”
“The issue is oxygen masks.”
“I hope we won’t need those.”
“There are only four for each row of three seats. Technically, the two mothers weren’t seated together. We had passengers on standby. When you weren’t here…”
Closing my eyes, I sighed. “Please, I have to get to LA.”
She looked up from her screen. “We have another flight leaving at 2:22.”
That was over two hours from now.
“What time will it arrive?”
“At 4:15, Pacific.”
Blinking, I said, “That’s sooner than I would arrive on this flight with my connection.” And I’ll be able to grab some lunch.
“Yes, ma’am, it’s nonstop. Are you willing to change your flight?”
“Yes.”
The woman flashed a smile. “I wish everyone was as accommodating.”
“My lucky day, remember?”
The printer by her computer ticked and clicked. With a smile, she handed me the new boarding pass. “Gate A-7.”
When I looked down, my eyes opened wide. “First class.”
“Your lucky day.” She softened her smile. “There was also a seat in row twenty-seven. Thank you for being flexible.”
“Thank you.”
Beta Kappa Phi could afford the expense of a first-class ticket. The issue was me. I wasn’t comfortable using my travel expenses for that upgrade. Walking toward the center of the airport, I found a seat at the bar of a familiar restaurant, wheeled my carry-on in front of the stool, and hung my garment bag on the back.
Lucky day, I reminded myself.
As the bartender plopped a menu in front of me, my eyes met those of another patron.
My heart rate spiked
Quickly, I looked away.
“Would you like a drink?” the bartender asked.
“Shit,” I mumbled, trying to calm my abrupt onset of nerves. “A water and a chardonnay.”
The words on the menu didn’t register.
Two and a half years.
I hadn’t seen that dark-blue stare in over two years, and there he was.
Exhaling, I peered inconspicuously upward. Warmth filled my cheeks as I met the intense gaze of Damien Sinclair. Shit, he was as handsome as I remembered and probably the same conceited asshole.
Speaking of my previous job...
The man across the bar, the one with the broad shoulders, dark-blond mane, and deep blue eyes was my boss from hell. Leaving the world of pharmaceuticals—his world—to join Beta Kappa Phi had been because I’d decided to get as far away from one man as I could, the devil himself.
Now, after all this time, he was looking my way. I felt his gaze on me as if he could see beneath my slacks and soft sweater. Against my better judgment, I looked up once more. Damien’s smile curled into an incredibly handsome grin as he lifted a tall glass with amber liquid my direction.
The bartender returned with my chardonnay. “The good-looking guy over there—” she tilted her head toward Damien “—said to put your order on his tab.” She grinned. “You attract the hot ones. Your lucky day.”
I lifted my glass of wine toward him and spoke in a low volume. “Do me a favor.”
Her soft hazel gaze came to mine.
“Put his tab on mine. It will be our secret.”
“Oh, I like it.”
“Don’t tell him,” I said.
“Honey, your secret is safe with me. Girl power.”
Gabriella
With my grilled chicken salad mostly consumed, my phone buzzed. Looking down at the screen, I saw the notification that my new flight was about to board. With perfect timing, the bartender came my way. Her smile shone at full voltage.
She lowered her voice. “I haven’t told him yet. Here’s your receipt.”
“You’re the best.” I laid a ten-dollar bill on the counter for a tip.
“So, is there a history?”
I only smiled.
“Have pity on me. I work all day making up stories about customers in my head. The real story would be better.”
I shook my head. “I doubt it. Do your made-up stories ever end in homicide?”
Her eyes opened wide. “Oh, now this will keep me up at night.”
“Let’s just say, what’s in the past belongs in the past.”
The bartender nodded. “Okay, I’ve got you. I’ll give you a minute to leave before I break the news to Mr. Good-looking.”
A quick look across the bar and I saw the bewilderment in Damien’s expression. That image alone was enough to make my day. Maybe the gate agent was right: today was my lucky day. Gliding down the hallway with my luggage and garment bag, I stepped onto the moving sidewalk, for the first time in a long while, floating on air.
It wasn’t often I had the opportunity to outplay a player. Picking up his tab for two beers and a chicken sandwich wasn’t exactly the power move of the year, but getting even one over on Damien was enough to fuel my good mood.
Well, that, and I was about to fly first class.
Making my way to gate A-7, I let myself think about the man I’d tried to forget.
Damien was a shark in the sea of pharmaceuticals. In a world where big conglomerates ruled, he took over as CEO and made a name with a small company in Indianapolis. Small was a relative term when it came to the pharmaceutical sphere. Sinclair Pharmaceuticals was primed and ready with a cutting-edge compound to treat PTSD. Damien had taken a risk, and it paid off. The sky was the limit for the future of Sinclair.
I could claim to have learned a lot from my employment as his executive assistant. I had.
I’d also made the biggest mistake one could make when trying to build a career.
I fell for the devil.
Demanding and abrupt, Damien was a force of nature—the beauty of a sunset over a sparkling ocean, yet capable of unleashing the power of hurricane-strength winds. Being in his presence, watching him work, and hearing his advice was empowering. Being in his arms and bed was pure ecstasy like I’d never dared to imagine.
I wish I could say that since our breakup, I’d succeeded in finding a man with greater skills, but I’d be lying. The only way to get over a man like Damien was to move forward. Replacing him was out of the question. It would be like finding a substitute for a Picasso. Indianapolis wasn’t without its share of eligible bachelors. Nevertheless, Damien was in a class by himself.
No, I didn’t want to replace Damien. I wanted to move on—to leave him behind.
Inside the airport bathroom, I splashed cool water on my face and stared at the woman in the mirror. In a matter of a minute, my balloon of bubbling elation had popped.
That was the way it was with seeing Damien for the first time in over two years—a roller coaster of emotions.
Shock.
Awe.
Jubilation at one-upping him.
The painful reawakening of the void he’d left.
The ache was real, causing my eyes to burn. As if visible, I felt the fissures splintering, one by one, demolishing the dam I’d constructed around my heart. Unwanted memories flooded my thoughts.
Holding back the onslaught of emotions, I peered into my own blue eyes and reminded myself that Damien Sinclair didn’t leave me. I left him. Gathering my courage, I’d walked away. It wasn’t because I didn’t love him. It was that loving him was too consuming. There was the sense that, with him, I ceased to exist. Damien’s fondness for the hunt made the game enticing. Once the pursuit was over, I felt my worth shrink. I wanted more out of life than to be a man’s accessory.
“You’re stronger for it,” I said softly to the woman in the mirror.
It didn’t matter that the woman at the next sink gave me a strange look. I turned her way and feigned a smile. “Have a great day.”
“Yeah, you too.”
Inhaling, I replied, “I will. It’s my lucky day.”
Back out to the gate, I stood in line as we inched toward the gate agent standing guard at the ticket stand by gate A-7.
It wasn’t until I was up to the counter that it occurred to me I could have jumped the line. I had a first-class ticket.
That’s right.
Lucky day.
My mind steered away from my brush with the past to the present—tonight’s gala. I thought about the biography of the award winner I needed to read. The man had risen from nothing to create an empire. Now he was spending some of his fortune to improve the health of others. In the four-plus hours of my upcoming flight, I planned to learn more. Tonight, we’d be face-to-face.
Once the plane was airborne, I’d open my laptop and brush up on not only the award winner, but the other attendees of the dinner. Nothing elated a donor’s ego more than remembering their name and asking specific questions about them. Throw in a story or anecdote about them, and their wallets magically opened.
Stepping from the jet bridge to the plane, I smiled at the attendants and lifted my garment bag. “Is there a place where this can be hung?”
The attendant took my garment bag and motioned me forward.
I scanned the front section of the plane. All the seats were occupied except one. My heart rate went from sixty to one hundred and sixty. A quick look at my boarding pass told me that one empty seat was mine. Despite the line of passengers behind me, as the temperature of my skin elevated, I was incapable of moving forward.
The empty seat in the third row near the window would be perfect for a long flight were it not for one thing.
One person.
One man.
Damien’s midnight-blue gaze sparkled as our eyes met.
