Seven Nights of Sin (Penthouse Affair #2)

Chapter 18 Dominic

Dominic

The next day, I come back to the hotel early. Well, right on time by normal standards, but I had to politely fend off a dozen offers of dinners, cocktails, anything that would keep me listening to pitches for another few hours. Not that I mind skipping out. I have a five-thirty date I wouldn’t miss for the world.

When I enter the suite, Presley is on her laptop, her lips pursed in thought. Working, of course—both of us are always working. She looks up when she sees me, her lips curving into a grin.

I’m still not sure how I feel about what happened between us last night. I have the sense that I’m playing with fire and will most likely get burned.

But I return her smile, my lips twitching as I take her in—with her black leggings and oversize sweater and messy bun. She looks every bit the college coed she was not long ago, and I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t tempting as hell.

“How was your day, dear?” she teases.

I chuckle. “Just fine. Yours?”

“Same,” she says cheerily.

There’s a lot we need to talk about, but first I need to do something else. “Can I borrow the desk for an hour?”

“What?” She looks back at her laptop. “Oh, sure, no problem. I can use the bed.”

I repress a quip about how we used the bed last night and it most certainly didn’t involve working or checking email. Now isn’t the time. And as today wore on, last night’s events had started to . . . not sit right with me. But I don’t have time to examine my selfish actions right now.

I pull out my own laptop, open up video chat, and call home. After a few rings, the faces of Lacey, Emilia, and Francine fill my screen.

“Daddy!” my girls cry ecstatically, and the sound of their loving voices calms the uncertainties inside me almost instantly.

“They’ve just had their breakfast,” Francine informs me.

“What did you eat?” I ask.

“Poo-poo,” Lacey stage-whispers, and they both collapse, giggling.

“Come on, you guys,” I say, but my mouth twitches up despite myself. Their laughter is just too infectious to resist.

you really had,” Francine

her

“Presley!” Lacey screams.

startled Presley caught halfway

. . forgot my

Emilia has spotted her too, both girls are hollering her name over and over. Presley is watching me helplessly for some cue

many looks that I’ve learned to read over the years since my girls were born, and this one ranks among the most powerful—the expression that says,

I heave

side, one hand on the desk, so I can still see

you two

“Good-how-are-you,” they chorus proudly.

freakish sometimes. That whole finishing each

so polite. Did your daddy

her head

if I needed another reminder that I’m never

shoots me an apologetic

see. Nanny Franny is great, isn’t

and shouts of “Nanny

show them your picture?” Francine

eyes go huge.

chaos of circles,

It’s not her fault she

a cool dog,” I say. “And I

catches on right away. “I love dogs. Did you see all this

petted him,” Emilia

people because they don’t know how to kiss right,” Lacey explains with a very solemn expression. “I

which gets them so excited that they start yelling over

turns talking,” I remind

only slightly, but I can’t bring myself to quash their energy further. It’s impossible not to smile while watching them chatter on, telling stories of the park that segue into the books Francine

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