Seven Nights of Sin (Penthouse Affair #2)

Chapter 26 Dominic

Dominic

The next day, Oliver and I drive out to check on the progress of several new properties scattered across Washington State. By Friday noon, we’ve made our way to Spokane and stopped for lunch at a pub the locals swear has the state’s best pizza. After debating, we agreed that wasn’t quite true, but they were pretty damn close.

We could have planned something more efficient than a multiday road trip, I suppose, but I don’t often get to hang out with my best friend someplace that’s not the office or my daughters’ tea parties. And if I’m being totally honest, I also wanted a chance to clear my head and figure shit out about Presley, which is hard to do when I see her all day, every day, at work.

“What do you think of the town?” I ask, draining the last of my wheat ale. If this place has one thing going for it, it’s the incredible beer.

Oliver shrugs cheerfully. “Seems pretty nice. It’s no Seattle, but then again, I’m biased. With the airport and all the basketball tourism, I think our new location will get more than enough traffic to remain profitable, even with the first hotel already there. Especially since the cheap real estate keeps our expenses low.”

“I see someone read the projections report.”

He scoffs, pretending to be offended. “I’ll have you know I always read everything I’m supposed to.” Then his smile slips a bit. “Listen, can I ask you something?”

Oliver almost never sounds this serious. It instantly makes me suspicious.

“That depends on what it is.”

“I need you to be completely honest with me here, dude.”

“Christ, just spit it out.”

He presses his lips into a flat line, breathing out through his nose, then asks, “Are you doing anything with Presley that you shouldn’t be?”

I hope he can’t see my shoulders tense. “You’ve already asked me that.”

“I know,” he says mildly. “It’s not illegal to ask the same question twice.”

“Well, the answer is no,” I lie.

“Are you sure that’s the story you’re sticking with? I know you want her.”

“What is it with you and this topic?” I snap. “Why are you so obsessed with the idea of me fucking her? How many times are you going to grill me about it?”

He sets his pint glass down a little too hard and a few drops of beer slosh out. “Dammit, Dom, don’t lie to me. I’m your best friend—some would say your only friend—”

“Hey,” I grunt.

“—and your vice president, so I need to know whether anything is happening that might fuck up things between our CEO and our new director of operations.”

Oliver and the rest of my executive staff knew Presley was the right intern for the position, so I don’t think he believes I offered her the job simply because I’m tangled up with her. I wasn’t even the one who recommended her for the spot initially. The others had seen her work, and there was really no question. The rest of the interns did fine, but fine doesn’t win you a midlevel position with a hefty salary and loads of responsibility. Presley was the only candidate who ranked high enough to meet our stringent criteria.

But he remains quiet, waiting me out, and in his stare is a stern warning. “She’s a good girl, Dom. The kind of girl who will want a house in the suburbs with a dog and a lawn and a white picket fence someday. You couldn’t give her that fairy-tale ending, even if you wanted to.”

His words cut unexpectedly deep. “What, I’m not good enough to be Prince Charming?” Shit, I should have kept denying it. Getting offended only proves his hunch.

“Don’t get your panties in a knot. I’m just being realistic here—you and she don’t want the same things in life. Or at least not when it comes to relationships.” His mouth quirks. “You’re two of a kind when it comes to cutting a swath at work, though.”

A heavy sigh escapes me. “I know,” I mutter.

Believe me, I’m all too aware that I’m wrong for her, and it’s not fair to let her wait a single second longer on something that’s never going to happen.

Too bad knowing that fact still doesn’t help me stay away from her. When it comes to her, I’m utterly helpless. The more time I spend with her, the more my doubts and fears creep in, but the harder it is to pull away. Why can’t I find the willpower to get my shit together?

“So, will you promise that you won’t hurt her?” Oliver asks.

I wet my lips. “I . . .”

I have no idea how I’m going to finish that sentence, and I’m grateful to be interrupted by my phone ringing.

I’m much less grateful when I see it’s Francine.

She knows Emilia and Lacey’s daily routine and all their likes and dislikes—probably better than I do, I hate to admit—so it’s rare for her to have a question. Usually, she can handle the unexpected without

breaking a sweat.

“What’s up, Fran?”

“Dominic!” Her voice is frantic and . . . weak?

My blood pressure spikes at the sound of toddlers crying in the background.

“Lacey threw up her morning snack. I didn’t call you because I figured it was just the tummy bug that’s been going around, it’ll pass in twenty-four hours with no harm done, and you know me, I’m not afraid of a little mess, so I cleaned it up and put Lacey to bed with some Pedialyte and tried to calm down Emilia, but then suddenly I felt awful, and now I can’t—” Text content © NôvelDrama.Org.

“It’s okay, Francine. I can come home. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Which won’t be very soon at all, seeing as Seattle is almost three hundred goddamn miles away.

“What’s wrong?” Oliver asks, his brow creased.

I cover the receiver to quickly mutter, “Everyone in the entire world caught the stomach flu.”

“—so sorry to call you back home,” Francine is saying, “when you’re out of town like this.”

“It’s okay, Francine. It’s no trouble at all. But it’ll take me a few hours.”

I hang up and yank on my jacket. Of course this has to happen when I’m on the other side of the fucking state. Guess I should be thankful the virus waited until I got back from London.

“Sorry to take the car and ditch you here,” I tell Oliver. “I’d fly, but by the time any seats became available—”

Oliver waves me off amiably. “No worries, man. I’ll do the site visit and rent a car to come back tomorrow morning like we’d planned.”

“Thanks. I owe you a beer . . . no, a bottle of whiskey.” I throw two twenties on the table for my half of lunch and then I’m out of there.

I speed back down the highway as fast as I dare. All I can think of is Francine being sick, struggling to take care of two hysterical toddlers, one of whom is puking and the other probably not far behind, for five whole hours—maybe even six if I hit traffic.

Normally, if he weren’t also in the wrong city, I could ask Oliver to cover for me in this kind of situation. But there is one other person who’s good with my kids, who’s in town and could relieve Francine right away . . .

I hesitate, then chastise myself and call Presley’s desk phone. As soon as she picks up, I frown. I’d kind of hoped she wouldn’t answer, so I wouldn’t have to put her in this position.

“Hey, it’s Dominic.”

“Hi,” she says cautiously, like she’s unsure why I’m calling. She knew I was going to be out of town for a few days.

“Can you do me a huge favor? I’m sorry to even ask this, but I didn’t know who else to turn to. Lacey is sick and Francine got sick too, and I won’t make it back until evening. Would you be willing to watch the kids so she can go home and get some rest?”

Presley sounds exhausted, but she doesn’t even hesitate, God bless her. “Absolutely. I’ll leave right away.”

I let out a long breath weighted with all my stress. “Thank you so much. You’re a lifesaver. I’ll make sure you get overtime pay for the rest of your workday.”

“Don’t worry about that. It’s a family emergency—of course I wouldn’t leave you or the girls hung out to dry.”

“Still, I really appreciate you going out of your way.”

“You’re welcome . . . anytime,” she says, and I can picture her smile perfectly. “Have a safe drive. I’ll see you at your place tonight.”

“Thank you for doing this,” I say, navigating my car along the on-ramp to the highway.

“It’s really not a problem. Don’t worry, okay?”

“Okay. ’Bye.”

I hang up, feeling five parts relief to one part disquiet. This is the kind of boundary blurring that made things complicated between us in the first place.

Even so, I can’t let my weird, confusing relationship with Presley stop me from doing what my family needs. If she had said no, that would be one thing, but since she’s in a position to help, I’ll just deal with the awkwardness later.