The Two Week Arrangement (Penthouse Affair, #1)

I don’t blame her. To me, this is obvious, but to Presley it must seem far-fetched.

I’ve known Roger since I was a kid. I remember the late-night business dinners at my childhood home. My mother would tuck Teddy and me away for the night and join the men downstairs for a nightcap. That’s when the negotiating would begin. My father would lay out the deal and my mother would serve as moderator between the two, pointing out pros and cons, luring Roger in with her intelligent opinion. It was a beautiful game of cat and mouse, and one that worked every time with several clients. It’s a formula I’m very familiar with.

Unfortunately, I’m missing a vital element of that formula since I’m a single, twenty-six-year-old CEO.

“Roger is very aware of how young I am to be the head of Aspen Hotels. I need to convince him that I’m serious. We need to. And if he sees me in a committed relationship with a bright, intelligent woman, he’ll take me more seriously.”

To Roger, I’m still that kid, peeking into his father’s study to eavesdrop on the adults. He doesn’t see me as much more than a child wandering the halls of his father’s grand enterprise.

“By dating?”

“By pretending to date. It won’t affect your work here at all.”

“How could it not?” Presley asks with a little incredulity in her voice. Her cheeks are slightly flushed and her gaze is focused.

I applaud her on her wariness going into an unfamiliar deal. She’s handling it just as I would—with an open mind and a touch of good old-fashioned skepticism. Smart girl.

“It won’t,” I say, hoping to reassure her. “It’s all laid out in the contract.”

“Contract?”

I hand her a single-page document from the top of my desk. It probably wouldn’t hold up in a court of law, but it would give us both peace of mind in the meantime.

She scans the page, quickly reading the terms, which are basically what I’ve already spelled out. It’s purely a business arrangement, strictly platonic. All costs will be covered. Meals, travel, and accommodations, if required. And just like the first night she accompanied me, I’ll pay her five-hundred dollars for each appearance we make together. Which will probably be several. Roger never comes into the office; it’s always dinners or drinks out with him.

“So, what do you say?” I can almost see the thousands of thoughts and uncertainties racing through her beautiful brain. I bet she didn’t think this would be part of Aspen’s internship program.

I can’t say that I did either.

“Can I think about it?” she asks after a beat.

“Of course.”

She walks toward the door, and I follow. Together, we pause there, me with my back pressed against the door frame. She’s waiting for me to move aside, but I don’t.

Why don’t I? Because apparently I’m a fucking sadist and need to be close to her despite all the reasons I should keep this professional. Exhibit A, the contract I signed stating that our work would be entirely platonic, both in and out of the office.

Yet here I am, my back glued to the door. Presley is maybe a foot away from me. I haven’t been this close to her since I kissed her hand Friday night. I could count her goddamn eyelashes if I wanted to.

“So it is true.” Her eyes blaze directly into mine, eradicating any bullshit I may have left to offer.

Fuck. I thought I already addressed this.

“Never mind,” she says, shaking her head and looking at the floor.

“No, say it.”

Her eyes flash back up to mine, holding me there like a hot hand on my throat. “That you like to pay for it.”

My hands curl into fists as if I can hold my faltering calm together with a tight enough grip. Anger bubbles up from the vault of emotions I keep securely locked at all times. I thought I’d been so careful. I never, ever disclose this part of my life to anyone who can’t be trusted.

Then who the fuck is spreading this rumor? Oliver? I thought I could trust him. Maybe that’s not the case, after all.

All burning frustrations immediately subside as Presley takes the smallest step toward me, leaving only inches between us.

“I’m not sleeping with you. Is that clear?” Her voice is quiet, firm, and I find it incredibly sexy.

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“But is that clear?”

My heart thuds quickly inside my chest. “Yes.”

Her eyes are still fixed on mine as if she’s searching for a hint of a lie.

There’s no lie, Presley. I would never take advantage.

“You don’t seem satisfied by that answer.”

“I just . . . don’t know if it’s a good idea,” she says softly.

“Why?”

“Because . . .”

Her plump lips form a small pout, and I can’t help but stare. Is she wearing any lip color, or are her lips naturally that pink?

“Because why?”

Presley screws her eyes shut in frustration, furrowing her brow. When she opens them, her eyes are like bullets against my useless emotional armor.

“This!” She gestures wildly toward the small space between us, the near-tangible electricity in the air that separates her body from mine.

I fucking knew it. I knew I wasn’t the only one.

“You’re attracted to me,” I say, my voice soft and low. I keep my expression calm and collected, even though I can actually hear my heart pounding through my veins.

Or is that hers?

She stands utterly still, her eyes wide. But slowly, her cheeks grow rosy. Then she draws her bottom lip into her mouth, chewing on it for a moment before letting it pop back out. That little move makes my cock push painfully against the constraints of my pants. I can’t tear my eyes away.

“I’m attracted to you, too.” I hear myself say it before I process the words falling out of my mouth. I’m staring at her lips, leaning in.

What am I doing? This meeting is over, Dom.

“Presley—” I’m about to apologize when there’s suddenly a soft press of warmth, and I realize Presley is kissing me. Presley, intern extraordinaire and novice escort, has her lips on mine in an almost chaste lip-lock.

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She places one hand against my chest as if to steady herself. Otherwise, our only point of connection is this kiss.

My eyelids float closed without my permission and I step into her, my hands moving up to cup her warm cheeks in my fingers.

God, she’s so small. She’s feminine and soft. And it’s been so long.

I suck in a sharp inhale, pressing more deeply into her wet lips. She gasps and grips my shirt, clinging for balance. My mind is blank, my world full of Presley’s sweet scent and her soft skin and her warm tongue.

I know I should stop. I should control myself and be the cool, collected CEO.

But with Presley in my arms, there’s nothing but fire.