The Two Week Arrangement (Penthouse Affair, #1)

Presley

I spoil myself, ordering a fourteen-dollar glass of champagne. When it’s placed before me in a glass flute, I take a slow sip, letting the bubbles dance over my tongue as I silently congratulate myself on a great first week of work. In a few years, I’ll be able to order bottles of this stuff and not bat an eyelash at the cost, and I’ll be able to make sure Michael has what he needs. I just have to keep working hard.

Since Bianca has a date tonight, and I didn’t feel like going home alone to an apartment that’s not even mine, I’ve stationed myself at a bar around the corner from the hotel. I slowly sip my drink, savoring it since I probably won’t be able to order myself something so extravagant for the foreseeable future.

A deep voice rumbles a curse, and something about the sound of the man’s voice makes me turn. Seated to my left, about six bar stools down, is Dominic Aspen.

Heat floods my cheeks at the sight of him. Even if this is one of the closest bars to the hotel where we both work, I never expected to see him here.

Correction: I work there. He owns it. It’s crazy to think that this man employs close to forty-thousand people around the globe.

He’s clearly upset about something, and I watch in fascination as he stabs at the screen of his phone, typing out a hurried message.

Dominic pushes one hand through his hair and then finishes his whiskey neat in a single gulp. He looks up and our eyes meet, and my cheeks flush with heat when I realize I’ve been watching him.

“Presley?” His deep voice is raspy and sends goose bumps skittering down my spine.

I take a healthy gulp of my champagne and then carry my glass down to join him. “Hello, Mr. Aspen.”

“Call me Dominic.”

I nod. “Are you enjoying happy hour?” I ask, and then instantly curse myself for how childish that sounded. I’m sure he already sees me as some know-nothing coed, and that little remark probably just reinforced that idea. Idiot.Material © NôvelDrama.Org.

“What? No.” He shakes his head. “I have a business dinner starting in thirty minutes around the corner, and I was supposed to meet my date here.”

“Oh.” My hands fall into my lap. Of course he has a date, a beautiful man like him. After all, it’s Friday night. I’m the only weirdo with no plans. I tip my head, looking down at my scuffed shoes. “Have fun, then. I won’t keep you.”

I finish the last of my champagne and rise to my feet, fishing around inside my purse until I locate my wallet.

Dominic frowns at me. “Sit down, Presley.”

Before I can even process his request, my body is obeying, and I lower myself back onto the bar stool.

Dominic catches the bartender’s attention to order me a second glass of bubbly, and requests my check be given to him. “My date canceled tonight,” he says at my obvious confusion.

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.” My heart pumps faster.

“So am I.”

He seems a little annoyed by this and looks down into his now-empty glass. I can’t help but notice he didn’t order himself another drink. Maybe because he needs to be clearheaded at his business dinner.

When my second drink arrives, it tastes even better than the first. Maybe because there’s a gorgeous man sitting next to me. Or maybe it’s because he’s one of the most powerful men in the world; his net worth has many zeroes behind it.

The sight of my polished, hypercompetent boss admitting he was stood up makes my heart squeeze. “I can’t imagine what kind of woman would cancel on you,” I say, and then immediately wish I could shove the words back inside my mouth.

Dominic’s eyes are bright with curiosity as he appraises me. “I’ve never met her before, actually. It was a setup.”

Jordan’s words about Dominic Aspen “paying for it” ring in my head.

“So the rumors about you are true?” Apparently, my tongue has been loosened by the alcohol, because I really have no excuse for my boldness right now.

Dominic’s dark eyebrows raise. “Rumors?”

I clear my throat, my posture straightening. “That you acquire your dates.”

His lips twitch, and he smiles. “I have an agency that supplies me with dates. Don’t look so scandalized, it’s the era of dating apps and swiping left, after all”

I nod. “I see. Well, I’m sorry that you were stood up.”

He nods once, watching me take another sip of my champagne. “Why are you sorry? Are you offering to fill in and help me?”

“M-me?” I stutter. “I couldn’t.”

Dominic turns to face me, giving me a pleading look, and something twists inside of me. “I’ve been trying to court this investor for months now, and I finally managed to snag a dinner meeting with him.”

Which means we wouldn’t have to be alone together. There’s a third wheel in the mix—probably some old guy, but still, a chaperone. A confusing mix of relief and disappointment rushes over me.

“I’m going to be honest,” he says. “I really need to show up to this dinner with a beautiful woman on my arm. I’ve already made the reservation for three, so if I show up alone, it’ll look like I’ve been ditched. Not very impressive on first impressions and all.”

“For the sake of appearances,” I say slowly, still trying to wrap my head around the idea of me acting as someone’s trophy date. The idea is pretty absurd.

“Exactly. And if we can impress this guy, Aspen stands to gain a lot. Fifty million dollars, to be precise.” He sighs, then presses his lips into a tight line. “I promise I won’t let it affect our work relationship if you say no . . . but please, at least consider it.”

As if our work relationship isn’t already “affected.” Dear God, things at the office have gotten ten thousand times more complicated than I ever imagined.

Part of me is flattered that he said we instead of I, as if we both have an equal role in impressing this important investor. But I can’t help wondering if Dominic would expect something more of me . . . assuming his date was also someone he planned to sleep with.

No, it couldn’t be. Right? And even on the off chance he does, I would never sleep with my boss. No matter how smoking hot he looks in that custom-tailored suit.

I drop my gaze, chewing my lip. “I don’t know.”