Seven Nights of Sin (Penthouse Affair #2)

Dominic

I’m woken up by two tiny, adorable heathens climbing on me and demanding pancakes. Part of me wants to be annoyed, wants to roll over and keep sleeping, or maybe chastise them for waking me up by climbing on me. Instead, there’s a smile on my lips even before my eyes open.

Presley isn’t far behind them, her hair wet from the shower, looking so much better than she did yesterday. When I ask how she feels, she admits she’s starving too.

Surprised, but grateful to see them all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed again, I cook up a full breakfast, pour orange juice, and brew coffee. My three former “patients” wolf down their breakfast like they haven’t eaten in days. I enjoy mine at a much more leisurely pace, but I’m sympathetic; a diet of broth, crackers, and bananas is hardly satisfying. I’m thankful it’s Saturday and I don’t have to rush off to the office once they’re finally feeling better.

Now they’re watching TV while I rinse our cups and syrup-smeared plates and load them into the dishwasher. Shutting its door, I ask Presley, “Want more coffee while I’m up? There’s at least a cup left in the pot.”

“Yes, please,” she says emphatically. “I’ve missed it.”

“After one single caffeine-free day? I’m pretty sure based on those parameters alone, that makes you an addict,” I tease, bringing the pot to her proffered mug.

“Hey, it’s no fun dealing with a wicked withdrawal headache on top of the flu.” She takes a long sip with a happy sigh. “Ah . . . my hero. Thank you.”

I’m not sure what’s changed between us, but it’s obvious something has. When I saw her sick and sleeping on the floor at the foot of Lacey’s bed, something inside me shifted. And I can feel it now too. We’re more comfortable together, more in sync than we have been. What started as a chemical thing—a lustful attraction—has given way to more, despite all my best efforts.

“I’m bored,” Lacey says with a pout.

“Outside?” Emilia asks excitedly.

I don’t blame them for being restless after a day stuck in bed. “Sure, let’s go out and do something fun. How’s the park sound?” It’s not exactly an adventure, but I’m reluctant to go too far in case they aren’t totally recovered.

When girls cheer, Presley laughs. “Looks like it’s unanimous.”

some stuff to feed the ducks too?” I suggest. As expected, I’m met with enthusiastic

ducks,” Presley says. “I read somewhere that it’s like

no idea. What foods

her phone for a minute before saying, “Whole grains, veggies, stuff

doing research, even on your days

a self-deprecating chuckle. “What can I say? Ducks are

Lacey says, “Don’t hurt

never hurt animals, and that includes giving them bad food,” I tell them both before turning back to Presley. “I wasn’t making fun of you—well, maybe I was, but that habit is

sound like I’m giving

and bizarrely stiff, I say, “You seem to know at least

gazes up at me, and her

an asshole, Dom, when she’s here

breath and try to clear my head. Having her so close, here in my home, helping with my daughters, is

mixed bag of oats, corn, peas, and lettuce. Then we head out on the short walk to the park, Presley holding Lacey’s hand and me holding

at the top of a grassy hill and set out our picnic. My antsy girls want to run off right away to feed the ducks, but I say, “Eat your

didn’t know better, I’d have no idea they were lying in bed barfing all day yesterday.” I blow out a relieved sigh. “I’m glad you all recovered so fast. Guess I should have believed

still not fair that you never caught it

I’ll get sick as a dog and you can spend a whole weekend bringing me tea and soup

to that.” She playfully grabs my bicep and gives it a squeeze, then looks self-conscious. “Sorry, I

the breeze and my daughters’ giggles . .

shoulder, so I leave