Seven Nights of Sin (Penthouse Affair #2) novel Chapter 3

Presley

I’m frozen, staring at the guest room door. I can’t move an inch, not even to bury myself under the covers in the bed behind me. To think, not long ago I was in his bed, thrumming with the amazing clarity of knowing I was exactly where I wanted to be, giving him a gift I’d held on to for someone special.

Oh God.

The knot in my gut tightens with each passing second. My mind is racing with questions, and not for the first time, I berate myself for being so damn stupid.

What was I thinking? How could I have been so blind?

I should have never taken that file from Austin. He had seemed so harmless at first. He was nice to me, interested in my work, good with Bianca . . . but a complete parasite the entire time we spent together. The sheer arrogance of the guy—no. Dammit. My own arrogance. Why would I take the file if I knew that it would jeopardize my already unstable standing at Aspen Hotels? Why would I risk Michael’s future like that?

Why hurt Dom?

That’s the bigger question. Just when he was starting to open up to me, to trust me. He’d let me in—however briefly—and let me meet his daughters. I knew how big of a deal that was. He keeps them highly guarded from the public, the media, everyone. I was one of the few people he trusted to meet them.

And now I’ve made a real freaking mess of things.

I’m not one to let things lie, though. Especially not if I’m the one who dropped the ball. If there’s a problem, I’m going to face it head-on. Still, I don’t think I’ve ever been this unsure, this terrified about addressing a problem. This isn’t quite a spat between coworkers, or even friends. I don’t even know what we are, so there’s no sure-fire way to approach this situation. Regardless, I know what I have to do. I need to try, at the very least.

I place a firm hand on the doorknob.

I can see through the crack of his bedroom door that Dominic still hasn’t gone back to his room. Good. As I sneak down the hall, my feet pad lightly across the wooden floor. I can hear his murmuring voice, calming a scared little girl.

My heart falls from my throat to my belly. I wonder if the noise of our argument, discussion, whatever the hell it was, woke one of his daughters from a deep sleep. Am I to blame? I make a small promise to myself to make it up to her later.

I’m also struck at how, in the midst of his personal turmoil, Dominic still has to take the time to be a dad, to offer soothing words, to place his child’s needs ahead of his own. My heart breaks a little more at the thought that I’ve hurt this man.

When I reach Dominic’s room, I don’t think. Instead, I pull my dress off over my head. And since I already removed my bra before getting into bed earlier, I’m in my birthday suit in less than a second.

Showing Dominic how sorry I am—showing him that I’m willing to put all my insecurities, my doubts, my freaking self-preservation aside to get him to trust me again—is the only thing on my mind. I’m offering myself up on a silver platter. Offering to fix this without words.

Sex is a language that Dominic knows well, and one I need to use to communicate what he means to me. Just like I felt backed into a corner to go to work for Allure to save Michael, this is my last shot to salvage my relationship with Dominic. My only chance.

God, I hope it works.

I slip under the silky sheets and fluffy duvet, and wait, one elbow propping myself up so I can watch the doorway. My heart hammers wildly behind my ribs.

His footsteps sound from down the hall, and my heart rate picks up.