The Two Week Arrangement (Penthouse Affair #1)(40)

“Okay.” Lacey pouts, clearly unsatisfied with this, but being such a good girl.

The three of us all see Uncle Oliver to the door. When he’s gone, I take the girls to the tub in the master bath for one of their favorite rituals—bath time. There’s minimal splashing tonight; Oliver has them good and tuckered out. When footie-pajamas are on and the girls are snug in their beds, I only have to read a few pages of Goodnight Moon for them to sail away into their dreams.

I owe you one, Oliver.

I sneak away to my bedroom, cell phone in hand. I’ve been anxious to call Presley and explain myself, but it occurs to me I don’t know what I’ll even say. I sit on the edge of my bed, staring at our texts.

Fuck it.

The phone rings three times before she answers.

“Hello?” Her voice is as smooth as that first sip of ice-cold whiskey.

I swallow. “Hey.”

“Hi,” she says cautiously.

“What are you up to?” Small talk couldn’t hurt. Maybe I’ll find my bearings somewhere in conversation.

“Oh, just cards.”

“Tarot?” I am so fascinated by this hobby of hers.

“Yeah.”

“What does it say?” Hopefully nothing about leaving insensitive assholes in the past.

“I don’t know yet.”

I can hear her smile through the phone. Good. She can still smile when speaking to me. Maybe all hope isn’t lost.

“Did I interrupt?”

“It’s okay. There’s no time limit.”

“So I can talk to you all night, that’s what you’re saying?”

She laughs. The sound floods my head, eradicating any remnants of the tension that has been gripping my temples for days.

“Well, that depends,” she says, tone careful.

“On what?”

“Rumor has it there’s an apology coming.”

I grin at her boldness. Presley is certainly unlike any other young woman I’ve met. She catches me off guard and challenges me. She doesn’t care that I’m a powerful, wealthy CEO and that she’s just an intern. She pushes my boundaries every single chance she gets. It’s refreshing.

“There is. You’re right. Again. I’m sorry. I acted like a dick. I shouldn’t have left things like that.” The words are true, spoken with the confidence of someone who knows they’ve royally fucked up and deserve whatever is coming. “I hope you can forgive me.”

The line is quiet for a moment. I close my eyes, imagining what her expression might be. I wonder if she’s frowning, if there’s a crease in her forehead as she weighs my words.

“Apology accepted.”

I smile. “Thank you. Can I take you out to dinner?”

“Um,” she stammers. “For what? Roger again?”

“No, just dinner.”

“Just dinner?”

I can practically see her narrowing her eyes in disbelief. I’d be bracing myself for rejection if I weren’t so charmed by her.

“Just dinner. Just us,” I say.

She’s quiet. I wonder if she’s looking at the cards.

“I could do dinner.”

And with those words, the universe is on my side for the first time in a long time.

“Tomorrow night, after work,” I tell her.

“It’s a date,” Presley whispers.





Chapter Eighteen


Presley



“I think I needed this.” Dominic digs a spoon into the oval-shaped dish of lavender crème br?lée.

“The dessert? It is pretty amazing,” I reply with a grin before I spoon another bite into my mouth.

Looking dead serious, he says, “No, a night off with you.”

A wash of giddy delight hits me. The hyper-disciplined CEO who always plays his cards close to the vest not only likes me, but is being open about it. Though he does also tend to be bold and blunt, so maybe I shouldn’t be so surprised.

Still, the admission catches me off guard, leaving me feeling almost shy. On cloud nine, mind you, but a little shy all the same. This man is so far out of my league and sexy as all get-out. It’s a little disorienting. I shouldn’t feel so weak. I shouldn’t ache for his hard-won crooked smiles, but I do.

Tonight we’ve feasted on roasted fish, had one too many glasses of an amazing French wine, and enjoyed casual conversation and laughter. And the best part has been knowing that we aren’t putting on a show for anyone. Now I know for sure that Dominic really does care about me, and he isn’t just pretending for the sake of keeping up appearances with Roger or getting into my pants. Although I definitely do want him in my pants, too.

Grinning, I reply, “Tonight’s been really fun.” I haven’t realized until now just how much I missed talking with Dominic so casually. “It means a lot to hear you missed me, too.”

“I won’t fuck this up again,” he says solemnly. He takes my hand, rubbing his thumb across my knuckles, and although the touch is affectionate rather than sexual, it still makes my stomach do a little flip. Then he adds, “Not to say the dessert isn’t delicious.”

“Mmm . . . I agree.” I scrape up the last decadent bite and heave a sigh of mixed delight and disappointment that it’s all gone. “That might have been the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”