Sin (Vegas Nights 1)

It was like I had a tiny Zelda in my head or something.

“Just thinking.” I offered him a light smile and set down my fork. “Tell me about Fox Industries.”

His hand, halfway to his glass, stilled. Something flitted across his features too quickly for me to discern, but he rapidly schooled his expression into one of mild surprise.

Mild, fake surprise.

“I thought this wasn’t a date. It’s starting to feel like one.” He was deflecting.

I half-shrugged and tucked a loose lock of hair behind my ear. “You’re the one who said you find me fascinating—I’m not going to tell you my life story without knowing anything about you in return.”

“You know plenty about me.”

“I know that you hate Jennifer Aniston, and honestly, I’m not sure how I’m sitting here after that revelation, never mind the libraries thing. You can redeem yourself now.” I flashed him a playful smile to know I was joking.

But only a little.

“I’ve never killed a puppy?” he offered weakly.

“I should hope the majority of people I meet haven’t.”

“True.” He pressed the glass to his lips but didn’t sip. “I barely graduated high school. Didn’t bother with college. I’m good with numbers, investments, and management, but not so much everything else.”

Well, well, well. There was a surprise. “Really?”

“Really. Which is exactly how I know that fancy degrees don’t run businesses.”

“No, but they sure give you a bit of credibility to people who don’t think you’re up to the job.”

“Low blow, Ms. Lloyd.”

“Not low enough if you aren’t on the floor, squealing.” I picked up my wine glass and let it dangle between my fingers for a moment. “But, that still wasn’t what I meant. I want to know more about your business.”

He put his glass down and waved his hand in the air. “Did you want dessert?”

No. I wanted to know why he refused to discuss it.

I shook my head, and within seconds, our plates were cleared and a leather-bound booklet had been placed in front of him. He barely glanced at the total before he pulled out his card and signed the receipt.

“You’re good at avoiding things you don’t want to answer.” I traced the line of his jaw with my eyes. “Too good.”

“Some things shouldn’t be discussed in public.” He took the booklet back from the server, removed his card and receipt, and looked me in the eye. “Let’s go.”

“Go where?”

“I want to check out that library function you have. You can ask me questions on the way.”

***

“Why would you want to check out the library function?” I asked once the door had been shut in the back of the sleek Bentley.

Damien ran his hand through his thick, dark hair and sat back against the black leather seats. His gaze swung from the closed partition between us and his driver to me. “I’m intrigued how it works.”

“Even Satan would call bullshit on that.”

He shrugged a shoulder. “It’s true. I’ve never heard anything like that before.”

Hmm.

The driver steered us into the slow-moving traffic. We were at least twenty minutes away from the bar without this speed of driving, so I had a chance to get some of the answers I wanted.

“Why wouldn’t you talk about your work in the restaurant?” I set my purse on the floor by my feet and shifted to face him. “I’ve never seen anyone get out of a dinner so fast.”

A small smile tugged the edge of his lips up. “Just like I said in there, some things shouldn’t be discussed in public.”

“Like politics and religion.”

“You have a very smart mouth.” He glanced down at said smart mouth. “Do you ever turn it off?”

“Never,” I reassured him. “Now, we’re no longer in public, so tell me about what you do.”

He rested an arm along the back of the seats. His fingertips landed just inches from my hair, and I gave a cursory glance at their closeness.

Shivers tickled their way down my spine as he stared at me. He was entirely still except for the way his eyes flicked left and right repeatedly. It felt an awful lot like he was taking me in, committing me to memory for some strange reason.

“A lot of people don’t like me. Pissing people off is part of business and I’ve done that a lot, so I try to keep my work private. It’s that simple, sweetheart.”

“I get it. But now, it is private.” I wasn’t going to let this drop. I’d quit reading before I did that. “I’ve told you a lot about my bar tonight, so now tell me something.”

“You have the innate ability to make me feel like I’m back in high school and writing an essay about being reasonable.”

“If you’d done that, you might know how to be reasonable.” I paused when he laughed. It was low blow time again. “Look, Mr. Fox—”

“Damien.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything about your business and what you do, but given that you’re failing embarrassingly in your attempt to buy my business, it’s probably in your best interests to start talking.”