Chapter 8 Dominic


    “It’s seven nights, Presley. You can do as you please while I’m busy during the day, but in front of


    Roger, out at dinner, we’ll pretend we’re still dating.” I fix her with a sharp look. “Assuming you can


    handle that.”


    She sucks in a breath. Was that a tiny shiver or just my imagination?


    “So . . . when you say ‘pretend we’re dating,’ I assume . . .” Her voice is quiet. “I assume we won’t be


    doing anything date-like for real.”


    “No. That time is over. If you apanied me to London, it would be for work only. in and simple.


    You’ll obviously bepensated handsomely for your time away.”


    Presley drops her gaze. She’s trying to hide it, but I can tell she’s hurt.


    Hell, if it stings me to say those words, it must feel a hundred times worse to hear them. But I’d rather


    err on the side of being a little too harsh than lead her on. I can’t make her think that this offer is about


    anything emotional, anything beyond keeping Roger in a happy, cooperative mood.


    “Just to be crystal clear,” I say, “I want to emphasize that you’re absolutely free to say no. Your job


    doesn’t depend on agreeing to this trip.”


    Sure, she came on to me a few days ago, but for all I know, maybe she’s totally over the idea of


    sleeping in a hotel room with me ever again. The thought triggers a twinge of hurt that I immediately


    squelch. I can’t unduly influence her decision just because she thinks it’s what I want . . . even though I


    do want it. So damn badly.


    She still doesn’t respond, just keeps studying my office carpet, looking torn. I can practically hear the


    gears spinning in her agile brain.


    After another few moments of silence, I wave my hand airily. “There’s no rush. You have a few days to


    think it over. My flight doesn’t leave until—”


    “I’ll do it.” Her tone is firm.


    I blink. “What?”


    Presley looks up again, still unsure, but determined. “I want to go to London with you.”


    She’s caught me off guard. I didn’t n on that. I expected hesitancy, and instead she’s given me


    urgency. I hate it . . . and love it too.


    “Are you sure? I wouldn’t be angry or let it affect our work rtionship if you’d rather not.”


    “I know,” Presley replies, like it’s so obvious it goes without saying. “You wouldn’t hold my career


    hostage just to get your way. You’re not the kind of man who’d do something like that. I trust you . . .”


    She hesitates. “And I want you to trust me again.”


    She said want. Not need. Maybe I’m reading way too much into one little word.


    Or maybe I’m not.


    “What else do you want, Presley?” I can’t resist asking.


    I tell myself it’s not because I’m desperate to hear about her feelings—I just need to know for sure why


    she’s agreeing to do this again. Is it entirely about earning her way back into my good graces, or is


    there more to it?


    Pink creeps over her cheeks, but her voice is strong when she answers. “I’m not sure.”


    I purse my lips, then slowly nod. That’s fine. Lust isn’t dangerous in and of itself. The most likely


    scenario is that nothing will happen between us. And worst case? Say we do fall into bed together. Two


    mature adults can fuck without things getting weird andplicated, right?


    “Okay. I’ll have Beth reserve an extra ne ticket for you.”


    “What about the hotel?” she asks.


    The corner of my mouth twitches up. “We won’t need two rooms. You’ll be staying in mine, remember?”


    “Oh. Right. Of course.” Her blush deepens.


    Property belongs to N?vel(D)r/ama.Org.


    I suppress a smile. “You can go back to work now.”


    After she’s gone, I’m still staring at the door, suddenly not sure whether I made a genius win-win


    decision or a huge mistake. There’s a very fine line between the two when ites to Presley.


    Can we really prevent emotions from getting involved here? I have no freaking clue, but I guess I’m


    about to find out.


    Sighing, I shake my head. I’m way overthinking this—everything will be fine. It’s just to please Roger, I


    tell myself.


    At the very least, herpany let me unwind from the hectic work that awaits and keep my mind off all


    the miles between me and home. Being away from my girls displeases me, and so any distraction will


    be a wee one.


    And I can’t think of a better distraction than Presley in my bed.