Seven Nights of Sin (Penthouse Affair #2) novel Chapter 5

Dominic

After my roller coaster of a weekend, coming into work on Monday morning is a relief. The atmosphere at Aspen is fast paced and high pressure, as always, but it’s also familiar. I’m in my element here. In control. Unlike in certain other areas of my life.

I grab a cup of coffee and settle in at my desk with an in-box full of emails, and release a heavy sigh.

My improved spirits last for all of an hour before Oliver pokes his head into my office.

“Hey, boss man,” he says.

Looking up from my computer screen, I give him a wry look. “I’ve told you not to call me that.” Even if I am his boss, he’s also my best friend.

Oliver just shrugs as he strolls inside and settles into the armchair in front of my desk. “What’s going on with Presley?”

My stomach tightens, but I train my features to remain calm. Oliver couldn’t possibly know the extent of what’s gone on between us.

Presley wouldn’t have spilled the beans . . . would she? I wouldn’t expect that of her, but given everything that’s happened in the past forty-eight hours, I clearly don’t know her as well as I thought I did. I never thought in a million years she could be bribed by the competition, or that she’d join the ranks at Allure.

Careful to control my tone, I reply, “What do you mean?”

“She’s not here, that’s what. And nobody’s heard from her.” Oliver scratches his head. “I guess that means you haven’t either. Weird. I figured if she’d said anything to anyone, it would be you.”

“Me?”

His eyes narrow. “Yeah. Her direct supervisor.”

I sit back in my chair. “Right.”

His eyes widen as he watches me.

I have no idea why she’s not here. Is she too upset to work? That doesn’t seem right. Knowing what I do about her personality, I would have guessed she’d at least call in sick, not just disappear.

Then I remember the comment she made when I rescued her two nights ago. She thought she’d lost her job. That I’d fired her. At the time, I’d been too focused on all the other crazy shit going on to address it.

“I’ll give her a call right now and check on her,” I say.

Oliver nods and crosses one ankle over his knee, apparently settling in for the long haul.

“I meant in private,” I add.

He rises and walks out with a grunt. I’ll deal with his moody ass later. Right now, all I care about is dialing Presley’s cell.

After a few rings, she answers with a confused, “Hello?”

“You’re not fired,” I say.

“But I . . .”

“Get to your desk.”

A long pause. “But . . .” Her tone wavers, and then firms. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry for the misunderstanding. I’ll be right there.”

She’s as efficient as ever. In under half an hour, I hear heels tapping on the floor outside my office and a knock at the door. I call out a brusque “Come in.”

Presley looks polished and beautiful in her black pencil skirt and white silk blouse. Of course she does—she’s always lovely, no matter what she wears, and my body hasn’t forgotten last night’s interrupted make-out session and subsequent case of blue balls.

But I can’t notice details like that anymore. I have to lock away everything we’ve done, everything personal we’ve seen about each other, and go back to just being her boss. Strictly professional. It’s the only way.

Violating my trust isn’t something that I can overlook, no matter the person, but I don’t want to raise any suspicions at work, so it’s better if she’s here. Business as usual.

“Do you have a question?” I ask.

“Yeah, actually. I was surprised to get your call. I thought we were . . .” She looks around to make sure no one is in earshot. “You know, done.”