Seven Nights of Sin (Penthouse Affair #2)

Chapter 34 Presley

Michael takes my hand. “Presley, are you okay?”

“Yeah, why?” I ask with a very unconvincing quaver in my voice. I have to be strong for Michael. I can’t break down in front of him.

“What’s going on? What happened with that guy you were seeing? Did my advice help?”

I laugh, a tear escaping my eye and landing with a soft splash on my hand. If only it were that simple. “It’s complicated.”

“You said that. Come on, Presley. Tell me. We’re the only family we’ve got,” Michael pleads, his hand warm against mine.

I finally raise my eyes to his. “My boss is the guy I was seeing.”

I can see the color drain from Michael’s face. Oh God, what have I done?

“Did he hurt you?”

“No, no. Not like that. It was entirely my choice. As soon as I met him, I fell for him. If you knew him, you’d understand. He’s so handsome, and he’s really committed to his work and his family. And the way he speaks, it’s so honest. I got to see it firsthand as his intern. So I fell for him. Hard. And I thought . . . well, I thought he was falling for me too.” The words pour out of me as freely as my tears.

Michael hands me his napkin, and I blow my nose wetly into the scratchy paper.

“If he didn’t fall for you, he’s an idiot. You’re the best person I know,” he says quietly. “You deserve someone who’s gonna treat you right.”

I smile weakly. Why can’t everything be so simple?

“Are you going to keep the job? I can drop out, you know. I’ll get a job at the club. I know they’re looking for bartenders. Elijah says—”

“No. No way. You’re not dropping out of school. I didn’t get this job for you to up and quit,” I say firmly, and Michael stares at me. © 2024 Nôv/el/Dram/a.Org.

“Sorry,” he says with a laugh. “You really sounded like Mom just then.”

My heart aches. “I miss her.”

“I miss her too. But I’m glad I have you,” he says, every bit the sweet boy he’s always been.

I couldn’t live without him.

“What are you going to do about . . .” He trails off.

“Dominic.”

“Ooh, Dom.” Michael smirks. “Is he . . .”

“Gross,” I say, smacking my brother lightly on the arm, and he giggles like a little kid.

“I’m probably going to have to talk to him,” I say with a frown. “I don’t want to. I would rather not talk to him ever again . . .” Is that true? “But I know I need to set some boundaries between us. I really like this job, and I want to stay there. I’ve been so lucky.”

“Presley, you and I both know you could get a job anywhere. I think you’re staying for other more dominant reasons,” Michael says, dropping his voice low on dominant.

I raise my hand to swat him again, and he flinches with a chuckle. “I’m trying not to think like that! He can’t return my feelings. And with everything that’s been going on in the news . . .”

“Wait, the news?”

“Yeah, there’s this scandal that’s been circulating—”

“Your boss is the escort guy?”

I visibly cringe. “Yep.” One of Allure’s escorts who went out with Dominic years ago sold her story to the tabloids.

Michael leans back in his chair with a huff, like the air has been knocked out of him. “Whoa.”

“I told you it was complicated.”

“Yeah. Sounds like the guy’s got some issues to work through. And you love him?”

My face flushes hot. “I . . .”

“I don’t judge you. I mean, Elijah was a little slut before he met me.”

“So, are you dating now?”

“We’re not putting a label on it,” Michael says, rolling his eyes. But the stroke of pink across each of his cheeks tells me otherwise.

For the rest of our café date, Michael and I talk about what’s next for both of us. He’ll be taking some contemporary dance classes next semester, which is Elijah’s focus. I’ll be traveling abroad again within the next two months, likely to the Netherlands, Dominic has informed me. Michael has assessments coming up, and I have projects to oversee. We’ve both got our work cut out for us.

When we step out of the café to say our good-byes, Michael wraps me in his arms. “I love you, you know. And not just for what you’ve done for me.”

Tears fill my eyes once again. “I love you too, Michael.” It starts to sprinkle rain, and although I already knowing he doesn’t, I ask, “Do you have an umbrella?”

“I don’t mind the rain,” Michael says with a cheeky grin. He pecks me on the cheek before saying, “It’ll pass.”

He pulls on his beanie, and I watch him run down the street toward the bus stop. My own umbrella hangs limply in my hand. I turn my face up toward the sky as it cracks open, covering me in its gray tears.

The anxiety, the pain, the reality of my feelings for Dominic . . . it all hits me at once. The rain pounds on my cheeks, mixing with my own tears. With every shuddering breath, I let the grief of losing the love I never really had consume me.

I’ll never hold him in my arms again. I’ll never braid his girls’ hair again. I’ll never feel the excitement of his eyes on me again.

Resignation washes over me, followed by a deep sadness settling in my chest. Michael’s words ring through my head, and I take a deep breath. It’ll pass.

Won’t it?