Seven Nights of Sin (Penthouse Affair #2)

Chapter 39 Presley

This time, his rejection is like getting punched in the throat. I feel the lump form like a bruise and lodge itself in my trachea. I can’t speak. Can’t breathe.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice cutting through me like a cold wind.

“No,” I manage to croak. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He shakes his head, roughly rubbing his eyes with the heal of his hand.

“I do, though,” I say, my voice wobbling. “You told me not to fall in love with you. I did it anyway. I guess I’m not very good at following directions.”

Tears now falling freely from my eyes roll down both cheeks, and I quickly wipe them away. But I’m not ashamed. It feels so good to just say it out loud. I hadn’t imagined that I would ever get this far. I thought he would retreat before I got the chance to bare my soul like this. But I’m not hiding my truth any longer.

“I don’t have the capacity for love,” he says softly, his eyes downcast at the table in front of us.

“That’s stupid.”

He looks up at me in shock.

“I mean, for a CEO, you’re really dumb. You are capable of love. I’ve seen it in the way you take care of your daughters. And in the way that you look to Fran for help and advice when you need it most. I’ve seen it in the way that you work with Oliver. You trust him, more than anyone. I’ve seen it when you talk about your brother that you lost. I’ve seen it when you first gave me that promotion—”

Dominic opens his mouth to object.

“—and don’t pretend that was strictly professional. You care about me and my future. I saw it when I was with Emilia and Lacey, braiding their hair. I know you felt it.”

“Presley . . .”

that you aren’t capable

in his eyes. I’ve way overstepped what is appropriate to say to one’s boss,

“If you can’t be with me in the way that we both need you to be, then I’m going to walk away. It’s the only

way I can work alongside him now—this man who took

deafening, and other people in the lounge are shooting curious glances our way. I’ve made a scene. This isn’t how I wanted to say it. I wanted to be

tears, and quietly blow my nose. I won’t look at him. I must seem like an immature lovesick idiot

front of me. I pick it up with

is soft as he says, “I might be totally

unable to meet his eyes, I feel the

takes a deep breath. “I might be insensitive. I might not know when

like salts into a warm bath,

to my mouth. With one movement, he leans across the table and kisses me tenderly on the lips. My hands find his under the table. When he releases me, he drops his forehead against mine, our hands tangled together,

you,” he murmurs. “I need

can’t keep doing this. This

can’t. And the

“What are you saying?”

for so long that I was unlovable. That I had too much baggage, and that no one would possibly want to take that on. To be with me—to

true, Dom.” I can’t help but think

a deep breath, releasing it

I shrug,

want you too, Presley. I shouldn’t. But I’m selfish and

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