The Two Week Arrangement (Penthouse Affair #1)(31)

Dominic leans in, his face tilting to mine. “He’s lucky to have you,” he says softly.

His breath just barely tickles my lips, and my heart skips in anticipation. He moves closer . . .

Until loud ringing breaks the evening stillness. Dominic pulls back, taking his phone from his jacket pocket. I try not to glare at the damn thing for interrupting.

At the sight of the screen, he widens his eyes for a second before he schools his features. “Excuse me—it’s a private call,” he murmurs.

And before I can ask what’s going on, he’s already walking briskly inside, leaving me alone and confused on the balcony.

What was that all about? I thought we were opening up to each other, and suddenly he yanked that controlled mask over his face and rushed off. I’ve never seen Dominic so rattled. It was almost like . . . he got caught in a secret.

Work wouldn’t call him at this hour. Maybe family would, but I doubt he’d act that way if that were the case. Given everything I’ve learned about his life, I’d assumed he was single, but could he actually be in a relationship? Unhappily married? I sure as hell hope not, considering I spent almost two hours making out with him today.

The idea that I might be “the other woman” claws at my stomach. I want answers, right freaking now, and all the alcohol I’ve had tonight gives me liquid courage.

I drain the last drops of wine from my glass and strike out in the direction he just headed, determined to confront him.

A little niggling in the back of my alcohol-induced brain reminds me that the answers I get may not be the answers I want.





Chapter Thirteen


Dominic



“Good night. I love you.”

I haven’t even hung up my phone before Presley bursts into the bedroom where I came to have a little privacy. Every evening, Emilia and Lacey need a good-night from Daddy before they can settle into bed. Fran started this ritual, and it’s one that I look forward to . . . I just wish the timing of it had been better. I didn’t want to leave Presley alone on the balcony after our moment, but there was no choice.

“Who was that?” Presley’s cheeks are stained pink.

Standing next to the bed, I pocket my phone. “I was just about to rejoin you on the balcony.”

She stands her ground, and I take a step closer.

“It’s really not your business,” I say, keeping my tone even.

“Are you seeing someone else?”

Fuck, she’s even hotter when she’s angry. “I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Then who were you talking to?”

I swallow. “I can’t tell you that.”

“Why not?” she asks, her hands falling to her sides. She seems genuinely perplexed. But there’s no way in hell I’m telling her I was on the phone with my two toddlers.

“It’s not personal, Presley. There are very few people who know about my private life. I can count them on one hand. I like to keep it that way. The phone call was a family matter.”

Presley opens her mouth to object and then snaps it shut. She seems somewhat saddened by what I’ve said; the color drains from her cheeks and her gaze drops to the floor at her feet. “A family matter,” she repeats.

Could I have hurt her feelings?

“Trust me,” I say, not entirely sure what I mean. “It has no bearing on our arrangement.” I take a step toward her, and her eyes flash up to mine.

“Right,” she says, her voice cracking under the guise of strength. “Just because we’re sharing a bed doesn’t mean that we’re sharing our lives.”

Sharing a bed? Why didn’t it occur to me that there was only one bed? Or that we’d be spending the night in it together? Well, that’s going to be one hell of a cock tease, complete with my least-favorite bedtime story ever, Goodnight Hard-On.

“Well, you’re welcome to the floor, if you’d prefer,” I say, flashing her a smile.

She scoffs and swats my arm. “No way.”

That little move has her wobbling a bit, so I steady her with one hand. I lean in so my words are a whisper in her ear.

“In that case, I promise to uphold your purity.” I squeeze her arm slightly, noting the goose bumps rising on her skin.

She leans back a little to meet my eyes. Searching.

“I’m not so pure,” she says in a low voice, and fuck if I don’t feel all my blood rush from my head into my sorely neglected cock. “I’ve done things before.”

“Makes sense. Men must be lining up,” I say, fighting off a smirk.

I’m not sure if it’s the alcohol, her proximity, or Oliver’s words finally getting through to me, but suddenly, I don’t want to hide the attraction I have for her. It’s not like she didn’t feel it when she was splayed over my lap earlier today, my dick hard against her warm center. And for some reason, when I’m with her, it’s easy to forget she works for me.

“So what if they are?” she asks with a playful look, her head tilting.

The dim light of the overhead fixture catches her eyes, and I’m struck speechless for a moment. She’s beautiful. Stunning, even.

“What are you waiting for, then?” My mouth is just inches from hers now. There’s no more eye contact, just the connection of our mingling breaths.