Seven Nights of Sin (Penthouse Affair #2)

Chapter 25 Dominic

. . . and then she trips. I catch her before she kisses the floor instead of me.

“Okay, I think it’s time to go,” I grunt out, then call to Bianca, “Can I drive Presley home?”

“Fine with me. I was planning to leave with my guy.” Bianca looks over toward a guy seated in the booth nursing a beer, then pats Presley on her flushed cheek. “Just make sure to text me when you get home, okay, babe?”

Presley flashes her an unsteady thumbs-up.

I give my ticket to the valet and wait with her at the front doors until it arrives, then escort her outside and into the passenger seat. She drapes herself over me as soon as I’ve slid into the driver’s seat and shut the door. This content © Nôv/elDr(a)m/a.Org.

“Sorry, guess I had too much,” she mumbles into my ear.

“Don’t worry about it. You’re highly entertaining and educational.” For instance, I’ve learned tonight that copious amounts of alcohol make Presley extremely silly and touchy-feely. The surprises never end.

She pouts. “Are you laughing at me?”

“You’re tough enough to take it.” I peck her on the cheek.

She shakes her head, now smiling at me.

The drive to Presley’s apartment takes less than twenty minutes, and then I’m helping her up the front steps and inside.

I head to the kitchen and retrieve a bottle of water from the fridge for her. “Here. Drink this. You need to sober up.”

She smirks at me, accepting the water bottle. “Yes, Dad.”

I can’t help but chuckle. “I am a dad.”

Presley laughs harder. “You sure are, and an extremely hot dad. You’re like a DILF.”

Shaking my head, I laugh with her.

She finishes her water and meets my eyes. “Thank you for everything.”

I’m assuming she means the promotion, but as I told her before, she earned it.

“And for coming to my rescue tonight,” she adds with a nod.

“You’re very welcome. Should we get you to bed? Where’s your room?”

She nods toward the couch. “We’re in it.”

The tan sofa is ancient looking and sags in the middle. A thin cotton blanket is draped over the back of it, and a pillow is shoved into one corner.

I frown. “You sleep on a couch?”

Presley waves her hand. “Yes, and don’t look so scandalized, Mr. CEO. Keep in mind that until today, I was working full-time in an unpaid position.”

“I guess that’s true.”

The fact that our internships are unpaid has never bothered me before now. Mostly because I’ve never considered what that means, or the sacrifices people would have to make. One of those sacrifices—at least in Presley’s case—being a bed, or any real privacy.

She heads into the bathroom, and I hear her brushing her teeth. Deciding to make myself useful, I make up her bed for her, draping the white sheet I find folded on the coffee table across the sofa, and lay out her blanket and pillow. If there’s one domestic thing I’m good at, it’s tucking someone into bed.

Presley emerges with her shirt unbuttoned down the front and her hair wild around her shoulders. I watch as she strips off her work clothes and then help her tug an oversize T-shirt over her head. She’s still a little unsteady, and I don’t know why, but I find her drunken state oddly adorable.

I place my hands on her hips and help her across the room.

“I can’t have sex with you tonight,” she says, giving me an exaggerated wink once we reach the couch.

“Okay . . .” I’m somewhat taken aback since I didn’t plan on sleeping with her while she was in this . . . state, but still, I’m surprised she just blurted that out.

I have no idea if she’s about to tell me she’s on her period, or maybe that she’s too drunk for sex, which I would agree with, but instead Presley nods.

“Sex confuses things between us. Doesn’t it, Dom?”

I don’t answer. Instead, I let her lean on me as she adjusts the blankets to her liking while I turn that question over in my head.

Barefoot and dressed in a T-shirt that nearly reaches her knees, she looks smaller, and even more innocent somehow. “You won’t buy the cow if you’re already getting the milk for free,” she says quietly.

What in the world?

“Okay,” I say, clapping my hands together once. “On that precious note, I’d say it’s time for bed.”

With my help, Presley sinks down into the soft cushions.

“You okay?” I ask, studying her in the dim light.

She lets out a huge yawn, nodding. “Just tired.”

I should have asked if she’s eaten, but I guess now’s not the time. The best thing for her will be just to sleep this off. And besides, I really do need to get home.

As I sit on the edge beside her, she sighs drowsily.

“You’re so good to me.”

Am I, though? The small, guilty tightness in the pit of my stomach points to no.

“Taking care of you is the least I can do,” I reply, not knowing if I’m even doing that much. Maybe I’m good to her, treating her right the best I know how, but I’m definitely not good for her. Yet I keep finding myself getting more and more entangled.

“You’re good,” she insists again, the words so quiet and slurred with impending sleep that I can barely decipher them.

“I’m glad you think so.”

I stroke her cheek, and she lets out a sleepy mmnn noise. After pressing a gentle, chaste kiss to her forehead, I pull back and see that her eyes are already closed.

Stroking her hair one last time, I murmur, “Don’t fall in love with me, okay?”

She doesn’t reply. I’m not sure if she’s fallen asleep or just not answering me. Then again, I don’t really know whether I was talking to her in the first place, or maybe to myself.

I tug the blanket up over her and rise to my feet while so many unanswered questions dance through my head.