The Two Week Arrangement (Penthouse Affair #1)(25)

“You can’t do that. Not in front of everyone. What will people think?”

“First, I don’t care what they think. They report to me, not the other way around. And second, they’ll probably assume we have business to settle, which we do.”

She’s quiet for a moment, before looking down at her shoes. “I just don’t want people thinking that we’re involved somehow.”

“Involved?” I ask.

“Sleeping together,” she says.

I study her for a moment. She’s so determined. So breathtakingly put together. “But we’re not sleeping together.”

“I know! But—” Presley cuts herself off, pressing her fingers to her temples. She takes a breath, her eyes closed, calming herself. “I just don’t want people talking.”

When she opens her eyes, I’m struck by her expression. It’s as if she’s trying to decide whether to believe me.

I want her to know that I’m genuinely sorry for putting her in an uncomfortable situation. I want her to feel safe with me. I would have never asked her to stay behind in front of the staff if this had occurred to me.

But she’s right. She’s a woman, a beautiful young woman, and I’m a man, and people talk. Unfortunately. That’s just a sad fact of business.

“I’m sorry. That didn’t occur to me. It won’t happen again.”

Her expression softens, and I want to touch her. My fingers are tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear before I have time to decide whether I should cross that line. She seems surprised, but she doesn’t move away or break eye contact with me.

Interesting.

“Are you coming with me tonight? I’ve been more than patient.”

“I know. And yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“I’ll come. I’ll be there for the dinner.”

“Thank you,” I say emphatically, offering her my hand so we can shake on our deal.

A smile broadens across her pretty face, and I can’t help but smile back in return. I let my thumb caress her wrist before letting go.

“You can sign at my desk,” I say, gesturing to the contract set neatly upon its surface.

Her heels click as she walks over and picks up the pen. Even from a few feet away, I can see that her signature is beautiful—not too loopy, sharp and simple.

“I’ll pick you up at five thirty. We’re expected at six.”

“Do you have a preference for what I wear?”

“I trust your instinct.”

“Wow, a compliment.” Presley smirks.

The corner of my own mouth quirks as I walk her toward the door. “You’ll be getting plenty of those tonight, so get used to it.”

“I’ll do my best,” she says with a cheeky grin.

“See you at five thirty.”

“See you then.”

The door clicks closed behind her, and just like that, everything is in motion.

? ? ?

I knew I’d be worthless at work for the next few hours with my mind racing like it is. Shortly after Presley left, I also took off for the day. I have to be mentally prepared for anything Roger throws at me tonight. But first, a little recharge.

I ease open the door to my daughters’ room. It’s naptime, so they’re usually tucked in around this time, but their beds are empty.

Where are they?

“They’re in your bed,” comes a voice from less than a foot away, and I nearly jump out of my goddamn skin.

“Jesus, Fran!” How does a woman who wears fucking New Balance shoes sneak up on me so easily?

“You’ll be gone till late again?”

“Yes,” I say, averting my gaze. I really can’t handle any more judgment from you.

“All right,” she says, squeezing my arm. “Go spend some time with your little ones before you leave.”

I nod, turning down the hall toward my own room. The girls are curled up together on top of the duvet, two little cherubs holding hands.

Smiling, I kick off my shoes and climb in between them, lifting Emilia gently to give myself some space to lie down. She sleeps like the dead, so I have no worries of waking her. I lower myself onto the bed, tangling my fingers in Lacey’s curls and tucking Emilia against my chest. I listen to the whispers of their breathing—so soft, so steady.

I consider for a moment just staying like this for the rest of the afternoon. I could wake them up, take them out for ice cream, and put on one of our favorite movies. We could all snuggle close on the couch. I can almost hear the sound of Emilia sucking on her thumb and feel the tangles of Lacey’s hair as I try to unknot them before bed.

Maybe another time.

After a little while, I get up, careful not to wake them. My shoeless feet pad across the floor toward the bathroom. In a few minutes, I’m standing under the scalding downpour of my shower, letting the water burn away any hesitation I have about tonight.

There was no chance of sneaking out before the girls woke up. When I’m clean and dressed, I find them sitting up in my bed, both reaching for me with sleepy eyes and adorable yawns. I pick one up in each arm and they relax into my chest. I’m not always going to be able to hold them like this, so I do it as often as I can.

I carry them to my dresser and plop Lacey on top. Emilia is still waking up, her warm little nose nestled in the crook of my dress shirt collar. This is a game we’ve played before, so Lacey looks expectantly at the first small drawer. I slide it open, revealing all the cuff links I’ve acquired over the years. A gold pair from graduation. Two pairs gifted to me by my mother a long time ago. A silver pair I inherited from Teddy.