by Kendall Ryan
“No situation is completely unsalvageable. Take me back to the beginning.”
And so I do. I tell Bianca about meeting Dominic in the bar on that fateful night. About how my heart practically leaped out of my throat when he proposed the arrangement. A two-week arrangement of being his fake girlfriend. I don’t tell her how well-versed he is in this kind of thing, preferring to only date high-end escorts. Even if he’s no longer mine, I do still have some sense of wanting to protect him.
Not that Bianca would run to the media with that information. I know I can trust her—we’ve been besties since we were freshman roommates in college. But still, if that got out, it could crush him, and he’d know I was somehow involved with it getting out and that would damage our relationship beyond repair. It’s already hanging on by a thread.
I explain how nervous and insecure I was before I realized that I’m a natural actress around men with heavy wallets, men who are capable of cinching a million-dollar deal over appetizers. And then, how electric every touch and caress felt when Dominic and I became physical. And finally, the moment I realized that he was a single father of two tiny children, and a truly fantastic one at that.
At this point, Bianca interrupts me. “Wait! He’s a dad? He’s like twenty-five!”
“He’s twenty-six, actually.”
“Well, I am no less amazed right now. A single dad to twins and running a huge corporation? That’s impressive, to say the least.”
Believe me, I know.
And the craziest thing is, he makes it look so effortless. Sure, he has Francine, but still. My runaway thoughts are interrupted by another question from Bianca.
“Where’s the mama?” she asks, leaning forward on her elbows.
“Her name is Sara. She was . . .” I swallow. “An escort.”
“Excusemewhat?” she blurts out.
“She was a—”
“No, I heard you. He knocked up an escort?” Bianca leans back in her chair as if to let this new information breathe in the space between us. “Wow.”
“He has custody of the children.”
“Why, because she was too coked up to care about her kids?”
“Bianca, it wasn’t like that.”
I’m surprised by how stern my tone is, but I mean it. I don’t want Bianca to think any less of Dominic for the situation he was in. Or even Sara, for that matter. The whole situation is so fucked up, but who am I to judge?
“He really tried to take care of her. He wanted to do the right thing.”
“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I’m in hyper-defensive mode because my friend is hurting. This is all just so crazy. And honestly, who else do I direct all this anger toward? Tell me.”
“I don’t know.” I moan, burying my face in my hands. “Me?”
“Presley, you did nothing wrong. Dominic is the dickhead here.”
“Don’t say that,” I say, my voice muffled by my palms.
“Why? Give me one good reason.”
“Because I think I have feelings for him.” I press my hands over my face, groaning.
There’s a solid ten seconds of silence. I peek through my fingers to see Bianca studying me while she absentmindedly picks off her nail polish. She’s waiting for me to say more, to divulge all my innermost thoughts.
Do I have to? I feel like all I do lately is ruin things. I used to think I had my shit together. Armed with my fancy new degree, I was on the fast track. I was going to storm the business world, take care of my brother, be everything to everyone . . . and now the only fast track that I’m on is to become the world’s hottest mess of a failure. And it’s only taken me a matter of weeks to get here. Good times.
“I just thought I had him pegged from the beginning, you know? I thought he was arrogant, unfeeling. Hot, but totally insufferable. And then he completely surprised me. He has this side of him that’s so incredibly gentle and considerate. And when I got a glimpse of that—hell, when I got a piece of it myself—it . . . it was so good.”
“The sex?” Bianca smirks, watching me.
“Obviously.” Even though we only did it once. “But it was more than that,” I say, shaking my head. “He was broken, and I got to see the parts of him that were still whole. You should have seen him cutting up grapes for his daughters.”
“Well, I gotta say that that’s not my definition of sexy, but hey, you do you.”
We both fall into a flurry of giggles. I’m so relieved to have talked to someone about all of this. I’ve had it clutched tightly to my chest for so long, thinking that no one would understand. But Bianca would never judge me for feeling what I do.
“What do you think I should do?” I ask, clasping my hands under the table like I’ve got my heart in my lap.
Bianca chews her lip thoughtfully. “Well, he didn’t fire you.”
“True.” The opposite, in fact. He demanded I get to my desk on Monday once he noticed I was missing.
“That’s a good sign.”
“Is it?” I’m not convinced. The way Dominic has been treating me feels like I’m only one minor misstep away from being blacklisted from the entire industry forever.
He wouldn’t do that to you, would he? Not knowing makes the back of my neck feel hot and cold all at once.
“You’re going to keep seeing him at work. Since he hasn’t completely removed you from his life, you’ve got this opportunity before you. Maybe you can win him over again and he’ll let you back in?”
After all of this?
Bianca sees the question in my eyes and puts up a hand as if to say, stop right there. “It’s his loss if he’s too stubborn to let you back in. Don’t sell yourself short for a man, sweetie.”
Let me back in . . . Those are apt words for what I’m looking for from Dominic now.
When I met him, he was a locked vault, and not just anyone was given the key. I was lucky enough to get a chance to connect with him on a level I never imagined possible.
Now I just want him to open the door again. Maybe then we can revisit what we had. The banter, the chemistry, the tenderness . . . before he ripped it apart and threw it in the trash.
“You’ve got this, Presley,” Bianca says with a confident smile. “You’re the strongest person I know. If anyone can figure out how to wade through this mess, it’s you.”
My lips turn up and my heart warms. If Bianca believes in me, then maybe I do have a fighting chance.
Chapter Five
Dominic
My flight to London and the hotel room are booked. Francine has confirmed she can stay in my apartment for a week. I’ll pay double her normal fee as thanks for her trouble. She insisted I didn’t have to, but she’s going the extra mile at the last minute, and there’s no one I trust more to care for my girls.
There’s only one detail left to arrange. I almost buzz Beth, then think better of it and dial Presley’s desk phone myself.
“This is Presley Harper, Operations Department. How can I help you?” she says.
“It’s Dominic. Can you stop by my office for a moment?”
“Oh! Hi, Dominic. Um . . .” In the background is some brief rustling and the sound of keys tapping. “Yes, I’ll be right there.”
I lean back in my chair and try to relax. It isn’t long before I hear a knock. I don’t get up, only call out, “Come in.”
Today she’s wearing a simple black sheath dress, but the hint of her curves beneath the supple fabric makes a painful knot form in my throat.
Presley shuts the door behind her as she enters, her brow creased quizzically. “You wanted to see me? Is something wrong?”
I don’t blame her for being curious about what I want. It’s not like we had a meeting scheduled, and for anything short of an emergency, I usually just email her, knowing she’ll respond within an hour or two. But this matter deserves a face-to-face talk.
“No, nothing like that. I just had a proposal for you and thought I should extend it in person.”
She blinks but says nothing
, only watches me with those wide blue eyes and waits for me to explain.
“Would you like to sit down?” I ask.
Without a word, she lowers herself gracefully into the leather chair in front of my desk.
Swallowing, I weigh my options for how to present this to her. I have to approach it with care if I want to avoid giving her the wrong impression. I keep my face and body language neutral, fully leveraging the cold, calculated persona that’s served me well in so many business dealings. If she’s searching for a hint of what I expect from her, she won’t find it.
Steepling my fingers beneath my chin, I say, “Next week I’ll be in London to scout potential building sites for Aspen’s first international location and finally nail down an investment deal with Roger.”
“We’re expanding? And Roger’s on board too?” She grins. “Wow, that’s great news!”
“It is.” Her delight is contagious, and I allow myself a small smile. Why not? We’ve won a big victory with an even bigger payout, after all. “But let me finish. I was thinking I should invite you to come along.”
Excitement spreads over her face, her eyes widening and lips parting slightly. “Y-you want me to sit in on your meetings? Does this mean . . . we’re okay?”
I fight to ignore how cute she looks with her face all lit up like that. I can’t betray any hint of the affection that, despite my best efforts, still lingers in me. “Not exactly. You wouldn’t be attending strictly as my intern. What I had in mind was more . . . selfish on my part.”
Her smile vanishes.
Now it’s my turn to search her and come up dry. I’m not too worried—I already knew this would be a gamble, and I doubt she’ll go running to HR—but having no idea what’s going on in her head grips me like nothing else.
At last, she says slowly, “What do you mean by that?”
“It’s seven nights, Presley. You can do as you please while I’m busy during the day, but in front of Roger, out at dinner, we’ll pretend we’re still dating.” I fix her with a sharp look. “Assuming you can handle that.”
She sucks in a breath. Was that a tiny shiver or just my imagination?
“So . . . when you say ‘pretend we’re dating,’ I assume . . .” Her voice is quiet. “I assume we won’t be doing anything date-like for real.”
“No. That time is over. If you accompanied me to London, it would be for work only. Plain and simple. You’ll obviously be compensated handsomely for your time away.”
Presley drops her gaze. She’s trying to hide it, but I can tell she’s hurt.
Hell, if it stings me to say those words, it must feel a hundred times worse to hear them. But I’d rather err on the side of being a little too harsh than lead her on. I can’t make her think that this offer is about anything emotional, anything beyond keeping Roger in a happy, cooperative mood.
“Just to be crystal clear,” I say, “I want to emphasize that you’re absolutely free to say no. Your job doesn’t depend on agreeing to this trip.”
Sure, she came on to me a few days ago, but for all I know, maybe she’s totally over the idea of sleeping in a hotel room with me ever again. The thought triggers a twinge of hurt that I immediately squelch. I can’t unduly influence her decision just because she thinks it’s what I want . . . even though I do want it. So damn badly.
She still doesn’t respond, just keeps studying my office carpet, looking torn. I can practically hear the gears spinning in her agile brain.
After another few moments of silence, I wave my hand airily. “There’s no rush. You have a few days to think it over. My flight doesn’t leave until—”
“I’ll do it.” Her tone is firm.
I blink. “What?”
Presley looks up again, still unsure, but determined. “I want to go to London with you.”
She’s caught me off guard. I didn’t plan on that. I expected hesitancy, and instead she’s given me urgency. I hate it . . . and love it too.
“Are you sure? I wouldn’t be angry or let it affect our work relationship if you’d rather not.”
“I know,” Presley replies, like it’s so obvious it goes without saying. “You wouldn’t hold my career hostage just to get your way. You’re not the kind of man who’d do something like that. I trust you . . .” She hesitates. “And I want you to trust me again.”
She said want. Not need. Maybe I’m reading way too much into one little word.
Or maybe I’m not.
“What else do you want, Presley?” I can’t resist asking.
I tell myself it’s not because I’m desperate to hear about her feelings—I just need to know for sure why she’s agreeing to do this again. Is it entirely about earning her way back into my good graces, or is there more to it?
Pink creeps over her cheeks, but her voice is strong when she answers. “I’m not sure.”
I purse my lips, then slowly nod. That’s fine. Lust isn’t dangerous in and of itself. The most likely scenario is that nothing will happen between us. And worst case? Say we do fall into bed together. Two mature adults can fuck without things getting weird and complicated, right?
“Okay. I’ll have Beth reserve an extra plane ticket for you.”
“What about the hotel?” she asks.
The corner of my mouth twitches up. “We won’t need two rooms. You’ll be staying in mine, remember?”
“Oh. Right. Of course.” Her blush deepens.
I suppress a smile. “You can go back to work now.”
After she’s gone, I’m still staring at the door, suddenly not sure whether I made a genius win-win decision or a huge mistake. There’s a very fine line between the two when it comes to Presley.
Can we really prevent emotions from getting involved here? I have no freaking clue, but I guess I’m about to find out.
Sighing, I shake my head. I’m way overthinking this—everything will be fine. It’s just to please Roger, I tell myself.
At the very least, her company let me unwind from the hectic work that awaits and keep my mind off all the miles between me and home. Being away from my girls displeases me, and so any distraction will be a welcome one.
And I can’t think of a better distraction than Presley in my bed.
Chapter Six
Presley
“London is colder than Seattle, right?” I ask Bianca. She’s lounging across her bed next to an impressive pile of sweaters in all shapes and colors. I leave for England with Dominic this afternoon, and in my distracted state, I’ve procrastinated packing the necessities. Like clothes. And toiletries. Which means I’ve emptied my suitcase and duffel bag onto her bed so she can help me pack.
Bianca pulls out her phone and scrolls briefly. “The weather app says it will be rainy. That doesn’t necessarily mean cold, though. Sixties during the day and fifties at night.”
“Hmm, all right. So maybe something a little breathable. Like this?” I hold up my favorite, a peach-colored cardigan in a clunky knit.
Bianca squints at it. “I don’t think that’s gonna be breathable enough.”
“Really? I like it,” I say, examining the texture between thumb and finger. I wore this cardigan through most of my time at Brown. It’s been through some of the best and worst times of my life, from late-night essay-writing to early mornings at my favorite coffee shop.
“Presley,” Bianca says, sitting up with a huff. “You don’t need sweaters. You need lingerie.”
“What?” I practically snort.
“Didn’t he say you wouldn’t be there strictly for business? I’m just reading between the lines.” She wiggles her eyebrows in my direction.
“Just because I won’t be there only for business doesn’t mean I should only pack underwear.”
“It’s not underwear . . . it’s lingerie. I know you have some. I’ve seen it.”
She’s right. She was there when I bought it. We’d gone to a discount boutique to look for something for her latest sexcapade. Naturally, I ended up in a dressing room as we
ll. I remember turning around, looking at myself in the mirror, admiring the way the lacy pink bodysuit hugged my slight curves. Although it took me a minute to get used to it, I liked how it looked on me. The sheer silk fabric caressed my skin like a kiss. My nipples were almost completely visible, perky and curious in this new getup. The thong sat high on my hips, with garters stretching down my thighs. Looking over my shoulder at my reflection, I knew I had to buy it—even if I had no one to wear it for.
“I’ve never worn those,” I admit.
“Never? We got them months ago, Pres. It’s now or never,” she says, peeking inside my duffel bag. “Where did you stash ’em?”
I slide past her and pull out a gift bag from where I stored it. I open it, and we both peek inside.
“Tags still attached. Wow, you really never wore these.”
I shrug. “Never had the inspiration to.”
“What about now?”
I chew on my lip. I can very clearly imagine the look on Dominic’s face if he were to undress me and find this underneath. The way his eyes would grow dark and his lips would part . . . God, my heart rate kicks up just thinking about it.
“I guess I am a little more inspired now,” I admit.
“Hell yeah, you are. This is an incredible deal. You get to literally just laze around in one of the most beautiful cities in the world, all expenses paid, with a gorgeous man.”
I snort and shake my head. I’m joining Dominic on this business trip as a sign of good faith. I want to prove to him that I’m worthy of a second chance, and if he wants me to come along, of course I’ll go.
I have nothing holding me back here. And if this internship leads to a full-time position, the perks will be absolutely unbelievable. Maybe I’ll fall in love with London, and even take Michael on a trip there someday. We could get tickets to the Royal Ballet, and spend the evening exploring the cobblestone streets . . . wow. My belly swirls with butterflies. This trip may be the worst decision I’ve ever made, or it may very well be the best. Only time will tell.
Bianca plants a kiss on my cheek. “Lucky duck. Just give me a shout when you’re ready to go.”