Seven Nights of Sin (Penthouse Affair #2)

“Attending a B2B conference in Denver. You approved her itinerary several weeks ago.”

I detect a hint of reproach in her tone. Or maybe that’s just my embarrassment talking.

“Oh . . . right. Sorry, I totally blanked on that.” And not only did I forget, I had to make an ass of myself about it too.

“No problem, sir.” Her graciousness just makes my gaffe worse. “Would you like me to call her cell instead?”

“No, that’s all right. I’ll just email her about this, and she’ll see it when she gets back.”

I hang up, feeling like I’m losing my goddamn mind.

Frustrated, I massage circles into my temples. I absolutely can’t let the stress get to me like this. I need about a gallon of coffee—well, what I really need is for those fucking reporters to have kept their mouths shut, but coffee is better than nothing. I almost ask Beth to bring me some, then decide to head downstairs to the cafeteria instead. Maybe getting away from my desk and stretching my legs will help clear my head.

The crowd is at less than half its usual lunchtime peak, and I’m grateful for that, but there are still enough people that the sensation of them staring at me is almost intolerable. I clench my teeth and focus on filling a paper cup with scalding-hot black coffee, and then getting the hell out of there.

Someone walks over to me. Expecting it to be an employee thirsty for details, I reluctantly look up, only to see Oliver.

He gives me a sympathetic smile that I’m really not in the mood for right now. “How you holding up, man?”

about. Everyone who works in this building—maybe everyone in Seattle—has seen

“Shitty,” I reply sourly.

scratches his head. “So, uh .

to smack him, but that’s not fair of me. I knew I’d

how there’s anything I can do other

kind of idiot. How did I let our relationship get to the point where “breaking up” applies? I’m the one who told her I wasn’t looking for anything serious and I wanted to stay casual,

have to hurt her.

into my cup, I can’t help but recall a joke Oliver once made about the way I like my coffee—midnight black—just like my soul, he’d joked. Only now I’m not even sure it was a joke. It sure as fuck

royally sucks.

and I was only going to ruin things, I find they now ring truer than ever. He’d have a viable career in fortune-telling if luxury hotels ever start to bore

the right thing too.” And I really do believe

I shake the sense that I’m making the biggest mistake of my life? I didn’t feel this awful after I had to stop

relationship turned way too complicated, way too fast. I promised myself I wouldn’t be like this, wouldn’t let things go this far. And yet I didn’t have the strength to control the situation. One kiss, and I lost all control. One taste, and I threw my rules right out

thoughts by squeezing my shoulder. “I’m always here for you, man. Anything you need,

“Got a time

How about we meet in your office this afternoon and talk about this over whiskey? Maybe