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The versatility of the bar was why I loved it so much.

Charley, one of the waitresses, banged out of the doors that connected the bar to the kitchen with a tray resting on her shoulder. The smell of the cheesy-bacon stuffed potatoes we had on the appetizer menu made my nose twitch. They smelled so good, and now, I was hungry.

I’d skipped lunch to continue my Damien Fox information hunt. I hadn’t found anything except the string of strip clubs he owned and articles about his charity and functions or some crap. I’d read one and given up. It was nothing but singing his praises, and I didn’t give a shit about his praises. I gave a shit about something that would be useful to me.

I walked up to the bar and approached the giant bouquet of flowers. White and pink lilies stared out at me. “Hey, Abs.” I softly ran a finger across the edge of a lily petal. “You got an admirer?”

She blinked at me and then the flowers. “Me? No. Those are yours.”

I frowned. Mine?

“There should be a card in there somewhere. They were delivered about a half hour ago. I knew you would be here early so I didn’t bother calling you.”

“Yeah, the text of ‘Are you getting your ass to work today?’ covered that.” I flashed her a smile before looking for the card. “Who sent them?”

She put down the glass she’d been cleaning and walked over to me. “Here.” She bent and picked something off the floor. “It must have fallen out when I transferred them into the vase.”

“Did you read it?” I took the small envelope from her and set down my purse.

“Nope. I can guess who they’re from, though.”

I stopped, mid-way through opening the envelope. “No.”

Her grin was evil.

There was no way these flowers were from Damien Fox. Was there?

“Why would he send me flowers?” I blinked at Abby.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say the answer to your question is in the card you’re holding.” That grin was still in place.

“What? Oh. Right. Of course.” My cheeks heated.

“You’re blushing.” She dropped the grin—and her jaw. “Why are you blushing? He’s a dick!”

“I’m blushing because I forgot I was holding the card. I’m shocked.”

“Flustered. You’re flustered.”

“I’m shocked.”

“Flustered.”

“Ugh!” I ripped the envelope open the rest of the way. She was right—I was flustered. This didn’t make any sense. Nobody had any reason to send me flowers. I’d had tons of them after my father’s death, but they were all long dead.

I pulled the thick card from the envelope. It was plain white on the front, but inside, the note was written in clean, capital letters.

MS. LLOYD,

MY APOLOGIES.

DAMIEN FOX.

I stared at the card. That was it. That was all it said. Our names and the most half-assed apology I’d ever read in my life. Sure, it’d come with the flowers, but compared to the flowers…Who the fuck would send what had to be a hundred-dollar bouquet of flowers and combine it with this card?

I hadn’t meant to call him dumb yesterday, but maybe I wasn’t too far off the mark, after all.

“What?”

I looked up at Abby. Wordlessly, I held out the card for her to read.

She pulled it from between my fingers and read it. A loud laugh barked out of her, and she threw the card down on the bar with a shake of her head. “Just when I think he can’t surprise me anymore, he does that.”

That was one way to put it.

I dug around in my purse for my phone. Easier said than done. I had everything and its twin in there, so it took me a minute to clasp my fingers around the smooth Samsung and pull it out. Abs looked over at the screen as I pulled up my messages and started a new one with him as the recipient.

Me: Why are you sorry?

Someone came to the bar to order, so my best friend had to dart away, but not without snorting at my message to him.

What else was I supposed to say? Thanks for the flowers but your note was a pile of shit?

Well. Maybe that was the way to go.

Me: The flowers are gorgeous. Thank you.

There. Now I didn’t look like I was ungrateful because I wasn’t. They really were very pretty—the mix of red, white, and pink lilies and roses scattered with other flowers I didn’t know the names of were the kind of flowers you could look at all day. He probably had an assistant pick them out and do the card, but whatever.

My phone buzzed in my hand, so I unlocked it.

Damien: You’re welcome.

Another buzz.

Damien: I apologized because I underestimated you.

Well, I could have told him that.

It was interesting, though. Of all the things he could apologize for—there were many—he picked that. That told me he wasn’t giving up. He wanted my bar, and for some reason, he wanted it badly.


Tags: Emma Hart Vegas Nights Billionaire Romance