Seven Nights of Sin (Penthouse Affair #2)

Dominic

Monday morning at the office, all eyes are on me—but they won’t meet mine. Clusters of chattering employees in the hallways and open workspaces abruptly clam up and avert their eyes when I pass by. It’s fucking awful.

Presley avoids me like I have the plague, hiding away in her office, her face turned toward her computer. Only Beth, a true professional to the end, continues to look me in the eye and handle our business as smoothly as if that damn news story never happened.

Thank God for small miracles. And the story, to be honest, is petty and ridiculous. An escort I went out with a handful of times wanted to cash in and sold her story. There was nothing all that salacious about it, but the media latched onto it and it spread like wildfire—destroying everything in its wake—including my reputation.

Gia called from the agency first thing that morning and told me she had deleted my file and that we needed to cut all ties. I told her that was fine. I don’t plan on using her services again anyhow. But of course, the damage was already done.

• • •

By Wednesday, the story still hasn’t died down, and it’s starting to wear on me. I’d like to think I’m resilient, untouchable, but this week has been humbling, to say the least.

I come in, Beth looks up and chirps,

efficiently at her desk, hard

sigh of relief at the normalcy of it all. With everything that’s been going on, I didn’t realize how badly I needed things at the office

attempting a smile that I’m sure doesn’t reach my eyes. “What’s on the

the details.

of me. All I’ve done this week so far is help her manage this fucking disaster. It’s like wading through

call her by lunchtime. There are

“Can do, sir.”

it’s the controls to a spaceship. Fuck . . . exactly like yesterday. All week, I’ve

email, deciding to deal with the non-scandal-related