Seven Nights of Sin (Penthouse Affair #2) novel Chapter 26

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.