Seven Nights of Sin (Penthouse Affair #2)

Dominic

Presley is standing on the curb as I pull up to the gas station. I took the Porsche, not the SUV; she doesn’t get to see that part of my life anymore. She lost that privilege about the same time she destroyed whatever trust we had built, shattered it like a crystal glass thrown against a concrete floor. It’s messy, the ugly remnants still there, mocking me by reminding me of what happened and of what we had.

I still feel so deceived, so hurt and angry. But I’m here.

I’m still not entirely sure why I’m here, but I guess it’s because she sounded so desperate on the phone, the sound of tears evident in her shaky voice. Not that she told me much on the call, only that she needed me to come get her. Curious and a little bit worried, I called Francine to come over, then grabbed a jacket and took off once she arrived to watch the girls.

I had a lot of questions, and even more spring to mind now that I see how Presley is dressed. She’s wearing the same little black cocktail dress and heels she wore on our weekend at Roger’s lake house.

Was she on a date?

My hands grip the steering wheel harder. It shouldn’t matter; we’re broken up now. I don’t even want to be involved with her anymore, but none of that reasoning stops the twinge of jealousy I feel low in my stomach.

When I get closer, I see her makeup is smudged beneath her eyes. She’s been crying, either before or after her frantic phone call to me, I’m not sure. And she’s shaking like a leaf. What the hell is going on? How long has she been standing outside? More importantly, why is she standing out here all alone?

It may be summer in Seattle but the nights, like tonight, can be chilly. Her arms are bare, but still, she waited out here. For me.

she scurries to the passenger door and quickly gets into the

her exposed arms. “I didn’t

I can’t bring myself to take Presley to her apartment and leave it at that with no explanation. Telling myself it’s because I want answers first,

deserve at least some answers as to why I was her first phone call,

“W-well, my phone was dead, and

but it doesn’t explain why

genetic makeup won’t allow me to ever walk away from or hang up on a female in need, but

drops to her lap and her hands wring her purse strap so hard, I’m surprised it

nothing, just wait. We can sit here all night if that’s what it takes. The only sound is the subtle purr of the Porsche’s engine. It’s a sound that used to calm me. But tonight I feel

was doing a

gut twists so hard at her admission that I’m glad I waited to start driving, because I’m pretty damn sure I’d have wrapped this car around a tree with the physical reaction I have

Like as

the whole Genesis thing.” She twists to face me, her eyes pleading.

not doing this

Her mouth snaps shut.