Sin (Vegas Nights 1)

“You know what else fascinates people? Serial killers.” I paused. “Satanism. Scientology. Not all fascinating things are good.”

“Did you mean to go for a bunch of ‘s’ words there?”

“No, but it flowed.” I shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t know what else you possibly need to know about me when I know nothing at all about you.”

So, that was a lie, but whatever. I was having dinner with Damien Fox—I either wanted a job or to get lucky, in the eyes of everyone else.

His dark eyes twinkled, and he leaned forward fully, shifting so both his arms were resting on the table. “My name is Damien Fox, I turned thirty in January, and I’m the CEO of Fox Enterprises. I co-own the company with my father who is almost retired, and while we primarily run strip clubs, we also own a restaurant in Vegas, one in Reno, and a cocktail bar on Lake Tahoe that’s part of the Fox Casino there.”

“If I did publicity, I’d be signing you right now.”

“That wasn’t what you hoped for, huh?”

I rested my chin on my hand and raised my eyebrows. “You’re not the only person who can use Google.” Even if Reno and Lake Tahoe were news to me. “Not to mention you sound like you’re introducing yourself at a group therapy meeting.”

He laughed again. “All right…I hate Jennifer Aniston, libraries, and Marvel.”

I blinked at him. “I think we might be done here.”

More laughter.

“What would possess you to buy a bar based on a book if you hate libraries?”

“I didn’t say I hate books,” Damien spoke slowly. “I said I hate libraries.”

“They’re one and the same.”

“A book, a library.” He motioned the book on his left hand and the library on his right. “Technically, different. One is a single book and the other is a lot of books.”

I stared at him. I didn’t know how I could be in the presence of someone who hated what was essentially, Rachel Green, escapism, and Thor.

That was it. I’d just found the biggest personality flaw of all.

“You do know that The Scarlet Letter has an almost-secret library-type function, don’t you?” I blinked a few times.

He went to respond, but at that moment, our appetizers were brought out.

“A what?” he said when the server had disappeared.

I raised an eyebrow. So, he didn’t know everything about the bar. Then again, I wasn’t exaggerating when I said it was almost-secret. “You didn’t find out everything in your little cyber-stalking mission then, huh?”

“I’m not dignifying that with a response.”

I grinned as I stabbed a shrimp with my fork. “A lot of the books on the walls are real books. It doesn’t operate like a library, per se, but similar. We have the check-out sheets at the front of the book, and the idea is that you write your name with the start and finish date.”

He chewed slowly, studying me closely.

I ate my shrimp and continued. “The only rule is that you don’t read a book someone else is reading unless it’s been over four months since the start date and they haven’t noted that it’s finished. People come in, get their drinks, collect their book, and sit down.”

“Social,” Damien replied dryly. “Isn’t that the opposite of what bars are about?”

Scratching my chin, I fought a smile. I ate a little before I replied. I needed to answer that carefully—because yes, it was, but we’d cultivated it so carefully, it wasn’t what my bar was about.

“Social situations are stressful for introverts,” I said carefully. “They don’t like people and struggle to deal with the chaos Las Vegas brings—especially students. Before we started the library-style system, we did market research on the customers. Most of the introverts came to the bar because it was quiet and they liked the library theme because they were bookish kinds of people.”

“It’s still the opposite of what a bar is generally about.”

“Which is why it’s so successful.” I gave him a tiny half-smile. “It gives the unsocial a place to be social. It gives introverts a place to feel like they still fit in with the club scene. And, it’s the perfect place to meet people who are the same as you.”

He raised his eyebrows in what was quickly becoming his signature look of disbelief. “What do you run there? Book Nerds Anonymous? Dating for Book Lovers?”

“No, but we do have a weekly book club who rent a back room on Monday evenings. Actually, they don’t rent anything. They typically drink so many cocktails that it doesn’t matter and they end up forgetting about what book they’re reading.” I paused. “Book Nerds Anonymous is a good group name. They were looking for one of those. Thanks.” I flashed him a quick smile.

He tried not to, but he succumbed to temptation and smiled back. “You’re welcome, sweetheart. Tell me more about these people who fall in love over books and booze.”