Seven Nights of Sin (Penthouse Affair #2)

Chapter 40 Dominic

Dominic

Four months later

Presley, Francine, and I are in the kitchen, taking turns cooking and diverting the twins away from the myriad hot and pointy objects in play, when the doorbell rings.

“Go ahead. I’ve got things under control here,” Francine says.

I glance up from tending my potful of bubbling potatoes. “You sure?”

“Of course—you’re the hosts. Now shoo, dearies.” She flicks her hand at us with a smile.

We answer the door to a young man I recognize from photos as Presley’s brother, and an affable- looking guy with brown eyes and a mop of unruly black curls.

“Thank you for coming. I’m Dominic.”

Michael shakes my hand, and when he smiles, I can see the resemblance between him and Presley right away. They share the same curious blue eyes and high cheekbones. “Thanks for the invite. This is Elijah.”

“Make yourselves at home,” I say, stepping aside to let them in.

Presley hugs Michael and pecks him on the cheek. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

“I wouldn’t miss Thanksgiving with my big sister,” he replies with a grin. This belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

“And Elijah,” she says, smiling. “It’s so nice to meet you. I’ve heard good things.”

“Then they’re all true,” Elijah says.

Michael shoots a grin at the other boy that’s so adoring, I almost expect cartoon hearts to float up around their heads.

Ah, young love . . . wait, did I really just think that? Dammit, being a dad has made me prematurely old.

Her eyes sparkling, Presley leans toward Michael. “Are you two exclusive yet?”

“Sis . . .” Michael groans, like the teenager he so recently was.

“We’re glad you’re here,” I say. Everyone smiles and the awkwardness dissolves, which is what I was hoping for. I shake Elijah’s hand too. “Thanks for coming.”

“Thank you for having me, Mr. Aspen,” he replies.

Points for politeness. “Please, call me Dominic. Dinner should be ready in twenty minutes—”

“Half an hour,” Francine yells from the kitchen. “It’s a big old bird.”

“What she said. But you can have some appetizers while you wait.”

Francine makes a noise of surprise, and I’m hoping she didn’t just chop off her finger or something.

“Presley, can you show them to the dining room while I go get that?”

“You have a whole dining room in your apartment?” Michael asks, wide-eyed.

“I know, right? This place is huge,” Presley says as she leads them off.

After checking on Francine (it was merely an excited squeal because her gravy is perfect), I bring in a plate of appetizers to set on the table. Lacey and Emilia follow me, but at the sight of strangers, they hide behind my legs, too shy to come forward, yet too curious to scurry back to Francine.

“Meet my daughters, Emilia and Lacey.” I point to each twin as I say her name.

Michael and Elijah squat down to greet the girls with friendly smiles.

“Hi, guys,” Michael says. “Nice to meet you. I’m Presley’s brother, Michael, and this is my boyfriend, Elijah.”

“You’re a boy,” Lacey says, poking her head out.

Grinning, Elijah nods. “I sure am.”

“Why?” Emilia asks.

“That’s a fantastically complicated question.” Elijah chuckles. “Guess I should’ve brought my Gender Studies textbook.”

Michael explains. “Sometimes love just works like that. Anybody can love anybody.”

The girls think about that for a moment, then nod, apparently satisfied.

“If only it were that easy with Dad,” Presley jokes.

Michael rolls his eyes with a derisive laugh. “No kidding.”

I hum noncommittally. “Let’s go take over for Francine. She’ll insist she doesn’t need any help, but she deserves a break.”

Presley and I head back into the kitchen to resume mashing potatoes, simmering cranberry relish, and prepping the pumpkin pie for baking. Through the doorway leading into the dining room, we can catch glimpses of my girls entertaining our guests, and hear snippets of conversation and laughter.

“This is nice,” Presley murmurs. “Having the apartment full and busy, I mean. I wouldn’t want to do it every day, but it’s so . . . cozy.”

I drop a kiss on her forehead. “Yeah, it really feels like a home.”

When there’s another knock on the door, I scramble to wash my hands.

“I’ll get it,” I say, my heart beating a little faster. I’m pretty confident I’ve planned this well, but now that the moment is actually here, it’s nerve-racking, mostly because I have no idea if I’m doing the right thing.

I open the door. “George?” I’ve never seen him in person before. I can tell where Presley gets her nose from.

The thin, gray-haired man on my threshold nods. “And you must be Dominic. Very nice place you got here.”

When I lead him into the dining room, Presley stops in midsentence and goes as rigid as a statue. Michael takes a step back, and Elijah grabs his hand. At everyone else’s reactions, Francine stands up protectively, and the girls zip to her side, wary.

“How did you know where we were?” Presley says in the coldest tone I’ve ever heard from her.

George offers an uncertain, placating half smile. “Dominic invited me.”

She whips around to stare at me. “Wait, you did what?”

Shit, she can be intimidating when she wants to be. It’s almost enough to make me flinch—and also a tiny bit hot, but let’s not go there right now.

“He has an apology for you,” I say.

Her shock and anger rapidly drain away to bewilderment. She looks back at her father. “You . . . do?”

Solemn, he nods, sucking his teeth. “Dominic called me a week or two ago. He helped me see that I have two kids I’m immensely proud of. I’m sorry I lost sight of that with your mom gone. I lost my way and I fu—” He glances down at the girls, clinging to Francine’s legs. “I did nothing but let my children down. I promise I’ll try harder and do better from now on.”

Presley’s expression softens a little. “Mom’s death was hard on all of us. And while you did hurt us both, we still love you.” She chews her lip. “But if you can’t accept Michael for who he is, then this isn’t going to work. That’s a deal breaker for us both.”

Hesitant, George looks over at Michael and Elijah, who are keeping their faces neutral but are gripping each other’s hands so tightly their knuckles are white. Presley watches the three of them with wary eyes, like she’s ready to throw herself in front of a bullet if need be.

Finally, George extends his hand to Elijah. “As long as you treat my son well, we’re good.”

Everyone smiles in relief, and Michael releases a huge breath, tears threatening to fall. Elijah shakes George’s offered hand with the one that’s not still clutching Michael’s.

The girls creep forward shyly, and Lacey tugs on George’s pant leg.

“You’re Grandpa?”

Presley and I gawk at Lacey, then each other, then George, who’s equally confused. The other three adults stifle a laugh.

Her lips twitching, Francine says, “Now, sweetheart . . .”

“I can sure try.” George looks back to us. “Only if you two are okay with that, of course.”

“Uhhh,” we both say.

“They’re your kids, so it’s your call,” Presley tells me.

Drop the whole decision on me, why don’t ya. She’s practically their stepmom already, but I don’t want to get into that discussion in front of everyone.

I rub my chin, musing. “I guess we can do a trial run.”

George turns back to the girls with a smile. “Looks like the answer is yes.”

“I’m hungry,” Emilia reminds us.

I scoop her up onto my hip. “An excellent point, darling. Let’s eat!”