The Two Week Arrangement (Penthouse Affair #1)(16)

“You’ve been a longtime client of Aspen. And you’re a consistent customer at my hotel, in particular, and a pleasure to do business with. Your last company-wide reservation put us right in the margins that we needed to be in. It’s been incredibly profitable for us, and we want to return the favor.”

“I’m listening.”

“If Roger Harwood, LLC invests in a small share of Aspen Hotels, we can assure you an even better deal than what you’re getting.”

“Your father told me I was already getting the best deal there was.” Roger swirls the ruby-colored wine in his glass.

“That may have been true at the time. But I’m not quite as shortsighted as my father,” I say with a smile. “Dad had goals but didn’t execute them outside of his comfort zone.”

“What kind of goals are you talking about?”

“International goals,” I say, and he sits up a little straighter. “I know you have a lot of business out of the country, and I can assure you that once our international locations are funded, all Harwood employees can enjoy the benefits of being friends of Aspen Hotels.”

As I lay out the details of the deal, I can feel Presley’s gaze on me. For the first time during the dinner, she’s completely still, her eyes locked on my face, watching my lips.

Fuck, that’s distracting. What is she thinking about?

“Presley, what do you think?” Roger asks, turning to her.

She returns his gaze and smiles warmly. “I think it’s a fucking good deal,” she says, then glances at me as if to ask, Too much?

I can’t help the smile spreading across my lips, and I chuckle.

Roger outright erupts into laughter. “A fucking good deal!”

“Let me try that again.” Presley grins, her eyes bright. She places her hands on the table in front of her, and proceeds to blow us away with her knowledge of Aspen Hotels and how Roger could benefit from this deal.

Grinning, Roger leans forward. “Where did you find her?” he asks me.

Swallowing, I meet Presley’s eyes, and have to mentally compose myself, because fuck. I’ve never been this turned on in my life and she’s nowhere near my dick. Not to mention she’s still fully clothed.

Roger reaches over the table and we shake hands warmly, exchanging promises of setting up a formal meeting soon to double-check logistics and nail down the details. I’m confident that we can satisfy this man’s goals while exceeding our own financial plans.

Dinner is long done and our glasses are empty. It’s time to wrap things up. As we get up to leave, Roger extends a hand to Presley, who accepts with a firm shake.

“Thank you, Presley, for sharing your evening with me,” he says with genuine kindness in his voice.

Presley smiles warmly. “Anytime, Roger. I’ll be around.”

Her statement is curious. Is she trying to make him think we’re dating? I didn’t exactly dissuade him from the idea. What other logical conclusion could he have drawn?

? ? ?

After dinner, I call a car and we slip inside. The silence in the limo is deafening. How did we go from such friendly conversation to complete silence?

Having an idea why, I clear my throat softly. “You don’t have to be uncomfortable.”

She nearly jumps at the sound of my voice.

Nice work, Dom.

“Don’t I?” Presley asks, laughing softly.

“I understand if you are.”

“No, I . . . I’m uncomfortable with how easy it was.”

“How do you mean?”

“Sitting there, talking business. Flattering the client. Being your date.”

There’s that word again. Why don’t I want to correct her when she uses it?

“You were good at it,” I say in a low voice. Arousal stirs in my veins, and I take a breath to remind myself why this is a terrible idea.

“Thank you,” she says with a soft smile. Even in the dark of the limo, I can see her eyes sparkle. “It was my first time. Doing something like this, I mean.”

She’s a good girl, just as I suspected. She’s probably never broken one rule, done anything outside of her straight-A, Miss Responsible routine in her entire life. So, why does that thought make me want to bend her over my desk and spank her ass?

“Really? I couldn’t tell,” I say, trying to keep my tone cool.

“No, I just wasn’t sure how it would go. Pretending with you, I mean,” she says, wringing her hands. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be so chatty about this with you. Duh.”

She’s so fucking cute.

“It’s no trouble. I’m interested.”

“Well, thanks. I’m glad you were my first.” She blushes immediately. “I don’t mean that, like, sexually. I’ve never had a first— I mean— Shit.” She buries her face in her clutch with a groan. Her voice is muffled when she says, “Can you pretend I didn’t just say that?”

“Sure.”

I say one thing, but as usual, my body does another. My cock sure can’t forget that little piece of treasured knowledge.

Presley hasn’t had sex? Unless I misunderstood her, I think she just implied she’s a virgin. She’s never fucked anyone? Never been fucked? With each racing question, my dick pulses.