Sin (Vegas Nights 1)

I was working out that the professional front of Damien Fox was much different to the private man who crept out every now and then.

Much, much different.

And that was probably the reason why I’d said yes to dinner.

Except now, I was regretting it. It had nothing to do with the disbelieving, judgmental look on my best friend’s face. It had everything to do with the fact that, while I had major issues with Professional Damien, I didn’t have quite so many with Private Damien.

“I’d tell you that you need a break, but you just took one.” Abby grinned. “I’ll finish the order if you want to go.”

I shook my head and grabbed my phone. “I’m fine. I just need to re-center myself. Eating helps.”

She glanced at the dainty, silver watch on her wrist. “If Madison can handle the bar on her own, I’ll go get us both lunch now.”

“There’s no ‘if.’ She asked me for more hours this morning, so she’s gonna have to handle it to get that.”

“Barny’s?”

“A meatball sub,” I answered with a nod.

“Gotcha. I’ll be back soon.” Abby disappeared, leaving the door slightly ajar.

I stared at the gap before looking down at my phone. Four taps on the screen for my code had the phone unlocked, and I brought up my messages app, clicking right on Damien’s name. His was third from the top, bumped down by Mia and Abby.

Then, I gave the answer I should have given last night.

I didn’t even stop to think about what I was doing.

I just did it. Just tapped out the message and hit send before the tiny niggle in the back of my mind could convince me otherwise.

Me: Can’t do tonight. Sorry.

I put my phone face down and turned my attention back to the bumble of blurred lines and numbers on the screen. I knew what it all said, but that didn’t mean any of it made any sense.

Regret tickled down my spine.

Why did I regret that text? Apart from the fact it was short notice, I had no reason to feel bad. I didn’t owe the man dinner—I owed him nothing. I knew what he was doing, and yesterday, I’d allowed myself to be sucked in. That was all. Nothing more, nothing less.

It was a moment of weakness.

I had a lot of those around him.

The only way to stop them was to stop being around him. It was that simple, and knowing Damien—it was that hard, too.

There was no way he’d let it go easily. The second he saw that message, he’d be all over it, demanding to know why, being his usual, brash self. Or, just as likely, he’d show up at my house with dinner.

He knew everything about me. He sure as hell knew my address, too.

Finally, I managed to submit the order at twelve-fifty-five, right as Abby returned with our sandwiches. The moment she put mine down in front of me with a short, fat, bottle of water, my phone buzzed.

I hesitated.

“Aren’t you going to get that?” She nodded toward the vibrating, slightly-moving phone.

I grimaced as I picked it up. Damien’s name flashed on the screen. Abby peered over, snorted, and sat down.

“Hello?” I said tentatively, holding it to my ear.

“You canceled?” His voice was huskier and rougher than normal—like he’d just woken up.

“Yeah, sorry. Something came up.”

If looks could kill, Abby would be murdering me right now. There was no way she couldn’t hear this whole conversation.

“Bullshit,” Damien muttered.

“It’s true. Sorry, I can’t make it.” God, if words had a smell…He’d already described what mine would smell like.

The line crackled as—I assumed—he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “All right. It’s fine. I’ll talk to you later.”

Then, just like that, he hung up.

My mouth opened as I slowly pulled my phone from my ear and looked at it.

Silence lasted all of a second.

My best friend broke it by bursting out laughing so loudly a room full of five-year-olds would have taken it as a challenge.

I darted my attention from my phone to her before dropping the Samsung on the desk with a dull thud. “What the hell?”

“You,” Abby sputtered. “Just got played.”

“Got played? What is this, high school?”

“No, but you’re the one who canceled something for no good reason.”

Sighing, I said, “Dinner. I canceled dinner.”

“Yeah, I would have reacted that way to you, too.” She plucked a piece of tomato from her chicken sandwich and held it out while looking at me with arched eyebrows. “I don’t know what the hell you’re doing, but it’s obvious you canceled on him out of principle.”

“He’s a business rival. It’s not good business to mingle like that.” There went my bullshit again.

“It doesn’t matter why you think you did it, but it didn’t work. I bet you thought he’d be all up in your business after that, right?”