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.

papa what you really had,”

hem of her shirt. “Waffle and

“Presley!” Lacey screams.

startled Presley caught

. . forgot my power cord,” she

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

read over the years since my girls were born,

significant stares. I heave a sigh and relent. “Come say

over to one side, one hand on the desk, so I can still see the screen. Though I’m focused on Emilia and Lacey, I can’t shake

are you two little monkeys?”

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

freakish sometimes. That whole finishing each other’s

“Wow, so polite. Did your daddy teach

shakes her head as

reminder that I’m

me an

is

they love more than rhymes. The girls erupt into giggles and shouts of “Nanny

to show

go huge.

paper covered with a chaos of

and I hold back a snort. It’s not her fault she

dog,” I say. “And I like

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

Emilia replies. “Doggies

because they don’t know how to kiss right,” Lacey explains with

gets them so excited that they start yelling over each

have to take turns talking,” I remind

to quash their energy further. It’s impossible not to smile while watching them chatter on, telling stories of the park that

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