Page 17 of Last Summer

They shared a smile and Ella sipped her drink. Damien hadn’t glanced once at the screen since she cited the philosopher. She took it as a good sign.

“You know, your quote is telling.”

“Is it?”

“Your ex-wife hurt you,” she said, intentionally being direct. It was a gamble, but he quoted Nietzsche. The political philosophy class where she’d studied the German philosopher had nearly put her to sleep. But Nietzsche’s personal life had always stuck with her. Nietzsche had been betrayed twice, in life and postmortem. The woman he loved and proposed to had married his friend, and after his death, his sister, who inherited his estate, misinterpreted his literary work to her advantage and political gain.

Damien’s face went blank. “You get right to the point.”

She shrugged. “It’s the reporter in me. Bad habit. We can talk about your relationship with your dad instead.” She stroked her leg, let her Christian Louboutin slip off her heel.

“Or...” His chin dipped, his gaze following her hand. “We can talk about why you’re in Vegas.”

“Girls’ weekend.”

“Yet here you are. Alone.”

“Davie’s upstairs.”

“And Davie is...?”

“My best friend from college. She went up to our room when I told her I was going to introduce myself to you.”

“So I was a target from the beginning.” He sounded disappointed.

Ella swirled the stirrer. She tapped the straw on the lip of the glass and set it aside. He was going to lose interest real fast if she didn’t come up with something more interesting than the game that had his attention. She needed his trust or else he wouldn’t open up to her. Honesty wasn’t always the best policy, but honesty gained trust. And this was one instance where honesty would pay off to her advantage. It would land her an interview and, with that, a cover feature.

“I’ll be up-front,” she started.

“Haven’t you been already?”

“True, but...” She took a deep breath. “You’re seriously good looking, and I’d be dead if I wasn’t attracted to you. I’mreallyattracted to you, and I’d like to spend time with you. I’d love the chance to get to know you.” Her cheeks warmed from her boldness. She’d never been so direct about her feelings when she’d met a man. It was too revealing. It made her feel vulnerable, exposed. But she wanted this man to know exactly how she felt, that her fascination with him was more than professional. She dared to touch him and traced her finger down the lapel of his sport jacket. The hard muscle underneath flexed and Ella had to force her hand away. She could touch him all night. “But in all seriousness, I also want to interview you.”

A discerning laugh escaped him. He shook his head. “Here I thought we were having a good conversation.”

“We are. But I bet you’d love to sit down and have another conversation with me, on the record and off.”

“You’d bet, huh?” He stroked a finger over his mouth. “We are in Vegas.”

“Yes, we are.”

He lifted his glass and took a deep drink without taking his eyes off her. He slowly set it down and wiped the corners of his mouth with his thumb and forefinger. “All right.”

She blinked. “All right? You’ll do it?”

“On two conditions.” He showed her two fingers. “We don’t talk about my father and you let me buy you another drink.”

“Deal.” She beamed, already plotting how she’d get him to tell her everything.

Damien bought her another bourbon on ice and told her what had brought him to Vegas. He was the keynote speaker at a network security conference. Ella gushed about KÀ, the Cirque du Soleil show at MGM Grand she and Davie saw that evening. They talked about their favorite restaurants in San Francisco—Ella insisted Fog Harbor Fish House had the best clam chowder, hands down—and where else they’d traveled. Damien owned a flat in London. One cocktail led to another, which led to an elevator ride to his suite after Ella sent a good night text to her friend.

Ella:Don’t wait up for me.

Davie:Girl, I want deets in the AM. Have fun.

Her and Damien’s conversation in the bar was charged, stoked by a look here and a touch there. He kept a possessive hand on her lower back in the elevator, and the instant he closed the door to his suite, his lips landed on hers. He kissed her, a lingering kiss that quickly became more demanding.

It wasn’t the first time Ella had charmed a potential interview subject into sharing secrets in between the sheets, but she wondered if Damien would be the last. There was something about him she was drawn to that she couldn’t quite pinpoint. Maybe it was because she felt like he was a kindred soul. She wasn’t positive and she didn’t have proof. The feeling was more instinctual. But when you’d been abandoned more than once like Ella had, a certain element of loneliness set in. Because she sensed that, Ella didn’t just want the scoop on his relationship with his parents or what happened with his ex-wife. She wanted him.

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