by Kendall Ryan
I can see through the crack of his bedroom door that Dominic still hasn’t gone back to his room. Good. As I sneak down the hall, my feet pad lightly across the wooden floor. I can hear his murmuring voice, calming a scared little girl.
My heart falls from my throat to my belly. I wonder if the noise of our argument, discussion, whatever the hell it was, woke one of his daughters from a deep sleep. Am I to blame? I make a small promise to myself to make it up to her later.
I’m also struck at how, in the midst of his personal turmoil, Dominic still has to take the time to be a dad, to offer soothing words, to place his child’s needs ahead of his own. My heart breaks a little more at the thought that I’ve hurt this man.
When I reach Dominic’s room, I don’t think. Instead, I pull my dress off over my head. And since I already removed my bra before getting into bed earlier, I’m in my birthday suit in less than a second.
Showing Dominic how sorry I am—showing him that I’m willing to put all my insecurities, my doubts, my freaking self-preservation aside to get him to trust me again—is the only thing on my mind. I’m offering myself up on a silver platter. Offering to fix this without words.
Sex is a language that Dominic knows well, and one I need to use to communicate what he means to me. Just like I felt backed into a corner to go to work for Allure to save Michael, this is my last shot to salvage my relationship with Dominic. My only chance.
God, I hope it works.
I slip under the silky sheets and fluffy duvet, and wait, one elbow propping myself up so I can watch the doorway. My heart hammers wildly behind my ribs.
His footsteps sound from down the hall, and my heart rate picks up.
This is it.
The look on Dominic’s face when he enters the room is almost comical. He’s so confused, his beautiful eyebrows drawn together, his stormy eyes fixed on mine. It isn’t fair how this man can wear any expression and still look like some flawless male model on a billboard.
“Hey,” he says, almost as a question.
“Hi.”
Here goes nothing.
Before he can say anything else, I sit up, letting the sheet slip from my breasts. His gaze drops to my naked chest, his eyes widening slightly as my nipples tighten in the cool air. His lips part.
Bingo.
“Can you forgive me?” My voice is soft, barely above a whisper, and my self-confidence is gone.
“Presley . . .” His tone is so broken, I feel it like a sharp stab inside my chest.
“I promise. I promise I was never going to sabotage you. You have to believe that. If that’s all that I wanted, I wouldn’t still be here now.”
I can’t read his expression. God, I wish more than anything that I could just get one tiny peek into the mind of this exquisite, confusing man.
Not that he’d ever let me.
Dominic looks at me with dark, seeking eyes. He licks his lips, his thumb pressing against the lower one as he watches me. “What’s your plan?”
“My plan?” Confused, I tilt my head.
His thumb slips away from his lip, and he nods. “What are you going to do to make up for it?”
Oh . . . my plan.
I rise to my knees, the sheet completely abandoning my bare flesh. I don’t know where this confidence has come from, but I’m plenty aware of what my body does to his—and vice versa. Maybe this is what I need to do. Be brave and make him forget all the ugly, messy things that have happened between us.
I cock my head at him and smile, holding one hand outstretched.
Come here.
He remains stock-still, watching me, and God, he’s so beautiful. So masculine and commanding, while I feel small and frightened and unsure. The balance of power is tipped entirely in his favor, and right now I don’t care at all. He has all the control. Everything that happens next is up to him.
God, please let him choose me.
Dominic takes two steps forward, and then he practically attacks me, his mouth on mine in a hard, brutal kiss of passion. No matter how angry he may be, no matter how confused he is, right now I can tell that he wants me, that he wants to put all this behind us. And with the way his tongue sucks shamelessly on mine, he can have whatever he wants. I melt into his touch, my heart now hammering for an entirely different reason than it was a moment ago.
I clutch his dress shirt in my fingers as his hands sink into my hair, holding me close.
“You know—what they say,” I whisper between gasping, open-mouthed kisses.
“Hmm?”
The fingers of his right hand slide up my thigh. I know what his destination is, and I can’t wait to feel those fingers caressing me once again . . . readying me for his thick length.
“The bigger the—breakup, the better—the sex.” I whimper, his kisses now almost bites against my throat.
This is going to work, Presley. This is actually going to work.
But then he pulls away.
“Dominic?”
The man before me wears an unreadable mask. He steps back, releasing me. I can still feel the warm imprints of his hands, now suddenly exposed to the cool air of the room.
His breathing is ragged, his chest rising and falling quickly, and there’s an unmistakable bulge beneath his zipper.
“I want you, Presley. You know that.”
My throat tightens.
“But I can’t trust you. And trust . . .” He swallows, his eyes locking onto mine. “It’s everything to me.”
“Dom—”
“Just stop. I’ve been burned before.” His eyes are dark and unreadable, and I know that the moment has passed.
“Their mother?”
“Yes,” he says, his voice hoarse.
I hate to press him on this, but my curiosity has always gotten the better of me. He’s vulnerable. Now may be the only chance I’ll get to peek inside.
I sit back on the bed and pull the sheet up to cover myself, while he remains standing beside the bed. “Who was she?”
He weighs my question for a moment, and I’m not sure if he’ll answer. It wouldn’t surprise me if he didn’t. He’s not exactly known for being the type to offer up personal details. But then his lips part and he meets my eyes again.
“Her name was Sara. She was an escort I hired for an event. We clicked, and I started requesting just her. It went on that way for a couple of months. Then we got careless, and . . .”
I clear my throat. “She got pregnant.”
He nods. “She didn’t want them. She didn’t want to be a mother. She wanted her life back. But the paternity test said they were mine, so I paid her.”
“Paid her?” I cock my head to the side. Dear God, the things this man does with his money . . .
“To give birth, rather than have the abortion that she wanted to.”
Oh.
My skin feels cold and my heart hollow. I can see how much this hurts him to tell me. I can see it in his eyes and hear it in the tremor of his deep, full voice—now strained with emotion. I never wanted him to relive that devastation, but I’m the one who pushed him to the edge.
“I’m so sorry, D—”
“I think you should go.”
There. I’ve really done it now. I’ve jeopardized my job, my brother’s future, my . . . whatever this catastrophe of a relationship is.
I have no place here. Dominic’s life is a complicated mess, and I’ve only scattered the pieces even more, like a selfish child.
It’s time to grow the hell up, Presley. I screwed up, and now I have no choice but to live with the consequences.
Without a word, I stand. I put on my dress and panties under his watchful gaze, my fingers trembling, and head to the guest room where my bra lays on the floor.
After I gather my purse and shoes, I slowly make my way down the hall, past the girls’ bedroom, and through the front door. The door clicks shut behind me.
Never once in my walk of shame—shame over everything I’ve done—does he try to stop me.
Why would he?
Chapter Three
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.”
“We are done—outside the office. But your internship isn’t over yet.”
She blinks. “I thought you said you didn’t trust me anymore.”
“I don’t. However, the fact remains that your work here has been top notch, so I’d like to give you a chance to prove me wrong.”
Plus, her finishing her internship here will mean fewer questions from Oliver and the rest of my staff, but I don’t share that tidbit. It’s been obvious to everyone that Presley is one of the most talented interns here, so firing her wouldn’t make any sense.
A flurry of emotions flit through her eyes, then she suppresses a smile. “Challenge accepted.”
I resist the urge to watch her walk away and instead force my gaze to return to my laptop. I seriously need to pull my shit together. What kind of boss is the last person to notice when their own intern doesn’t show up?
Fucking hell. Oliver must know something’s up, but I’ll deal with that later.
Not ten minutes later, the intercom on my desk beeps, and I almost groan. For God’s sake, what now?
I press the button. “Yes, Beth?”
“There’s a phone call for you from Mr. Harwood. Shall I put him through?”
I sigh and rub my temples. “Go ahead. Thank you.”
Another beep, and Roger’s jovial voice booms, “Morning, Dominic. Hope you’re having a good day so far.”
Not remotely. “Same to you,” I reply with as much friendly cheerfulness as I can fake. “What’s on your mind?”
“Well, I’ve been chewing over everything we’ve talked about, and I’ve gotta say, you make a damn compelling argument. I think I’d like to invest in Aspen’s international growth.”
This is everything I could have wanted. All those long evenings of elbow-rubbing have finally paid off. So, why aren’t I doing a touchdown dance at my desk? Maybe I’m just too distracted by this whole Presley mess.
“That’s fantastic news. Great to hear we’ve impressed you. I’ll have Beth send ov—”
“Not so fast, son.” Roger chuckles. “I want to at least see the property you plan to build on first. You know what they say about location.”
“That’s fair.”
Looks like I can’t put off that scouting trip any longer. But the idea of being so far away from Emilia and Lacey for so long is unpleasant enough that I’ve been pushing it back for months.
“There are a few spots in London I’ve had my eye on. How does your schedule look for, say, next week for a little trip across the pond?”
He laughs. “You get right to the point, don’t you? Sure, I can make time. Surprise the missus with a little vacation.”
“Then I’ll see you there for high tea.”
“Sounds terrific. I’ll bring the paperwork. Speaking of significant others, will your lady friend be joining us? I certainly enjoyed talking to her a hell of a lot more than you.” He almost belly laughs at his own humor while I inwardly groan.
Fuck. Presley is the main reason why Roger warmed up to the idea of working with Aspen Hotels. But I can’t see her outside the office now, let alone jet off across the Atlantic for a week of pretend canoodling.
On the other hand, I’m so close to locking down this deal, I can taste it. I have to bring my A game, or in this instance, my P game . . . Presley. I refuse to risk blowing a massive deal it at the last minute over such a tiny detail.
“You still there?” he asks.
I clear my throat. “Sorry, I was just thinking. I’m not sure. I’ll have to talk it over with Presley first.” And make a brutally tough decision. Being in a hotel with her all week is bound to invite complications and send her the wrong message.
“Of course. And while I’d love to see her—” Roger’s voice turns teasing. “I understand that a man needs to fly solo every once in a while.”
Something about his choice of words rattles me. I’ve been flying solo for most of my life. I go out of my way to avoid messy entanglements, and look where that’s gotten me.
I inhale and try to focus. “I’ll email you as soon as I know. Have a good one.” I hang up and l
ean back in my chair, my fingers steepled over my mouth in thought.
Roger just gave me the out I was looking for. I can claim that I want to use this business trip as a girlfriend-free getaway. But now that I’ve thought about it . . . maybe bringing Presley to London with me wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Maybe I can kill two birds with one stone.
Or maybe being alone with her will kill me. Who the hell knows at this point?
Chapter Four
Presley
“Wait, let me get this straight. Austin was like a spy?”
Bianca sits across from me in a small café a block away from our apartment. Her hands are tightly wrapped around her tea mug, her fingernails a deep navy blue. She leans forward like an angsty preteen, hungry to eat up some hot gossip.
“That’s really not the important part,” I say with a sigh.
I had my reservations about telling her any of this . . . but who else is there? It’s not like I can tell Michael. He would blame himself for any pain he’s caused me. He’d also freak out if he knew about my finances, but he needs to focus on school. Plus, he would think it’s somehow his fault that my life is such a colossal shit show.
No. There’s no way I can share any of this with him. It would break him.
I breathe in the steam of my herbal tea, willing it to calm my buzzing nerves.
“Hello? Are you still there?” Bianca’s gazing at me with a confused expression.
I blink. I’d completely zoned out, spiraling down into the pit of my despair. Bianca reaches over and places a hand on mine. She squeezes it tightly, as if to squeeze the thoughts right out of me.
“Sorry, B, what did you say?”
“I asked if you were okay.”
I laugh, feeling anything but okay. “Honestly? No.” I let out a long, slow exhale. “I’m freaking out.”
“Because of the job, or because of your hot boss who hates you?” she asks before taking a sip of her tea.
“Both?” I say, my voice tight with the tears I refuse to cry.
Bianca rubs her thumb across the back of my hand in a sweet gesture of comfort. I look into her eyes, searching for any bit of wisdom she may have to offer. I’ll take just about anything right now.