The Two Week Arrangement (Penthouse Affair, #1)

Presley

On Monday morning, I station myself at my desk, hoping that throwing myself into work will distract me.

I was up half the night with my thoughts running wild. The topic? None other than my sexy-as-sin and equally infuriating boss. Which is so not helpful to my sanity.

I walked into our deal knowing it was all for the sake of wooing a client, yet I thought we’d made a real connection, deeper than just boss and intern. The laughter. The flirting. The kissing. But it turns out our fake relationship really is nothing but fake. How could I be so naïve?

My eyes burn for reasons that have nothing to do with sleep deprivation, and my computer screen blurs. I blink fast to chase away impending tears.

Get a grip, Pres.

Yes, I misjudged everything and it feels awful, but am I going to collapse or stand back up on my own two feet? I need to let go and fix my mistakes like a big girl. And that starts with cutting my losses, right this minute.

From now on, I’ll refuse to see that prick except during business hours at the office. The next time he comes waltzing up to ask for a date, I’m telling him our deal is off. No more “overtime” for me. Let him figure out on his own how to lie to Roger about where I am. I’ve made some of the money I needed toward Michael’s bills, and I care about myself to much to get emotionally involved with such a total asshole.

Well, to be fair, he’s not one hundred percent an asshole. Yesterday afternoon, he seemed like a great dad. The way he fussed over his daughters was pretty damn adorable. Watching his strong forearms as he lifted them. Fussing over their snack and slicing those grapes in half. It was downright disarming to see such a different side of him . . .

I slam the brakes on that train of thought. Dammit, stop mooning over him like a schoolgirl. He’s already hurt me once—what more will it take to get it through my head that he’s a jerk? The way he thanked me for that blow job made me feel about ten inches tall. Like he was buying a pack of gum or something. Who talks about sex like that, as if it was just a transaction?

But sex is a transaction to him, a nasty little voice whispers in my head. Did you forget that he only screws women he’s paid for? He told you that himself. You were just too blinded by infatuation to really believe it.

My hands slow on the keyboard. Is that . . . how he feels about me? Does he see what we shared on Saturday night as something he purchased?

I shake my head. No more dwelling on it. I’m here to work, and I need to pull my focus back to that. I just have to accept that we come from worlds too different to be compatible, and move on . . . no matter how right it felt to be in his arms.

A knock on my cubicle wall mercifully interrupts my sour thoughts. I spin my chair around, expecting Jordan, only to see Aspen’s vice president.

“G-good morning, Mister—”

“I told you, there’s no need to be so formal. Please call me Oliver.” He flashes me a reassuring smile. “And relax, I came with good news. I just wanted to stop by and let you know what a great job you did on that budget proposal.”

I blink, flustered that a VP would come praise me in person. “Oh, thank you. Jordan helped a lot, too.”

I regret the words as soon as they’re out of my mouth. It’s true that he worked hard on this assignment, but I can’t afford to undercut my achievements with good-girl modesty.

“Sure, it was a partnered project, but the quality of your contribution was clear. You really went above and beyond.”

I can’t hold back a grin. “Thank you so much. That really means a lot to me.”

“It’s the truth. Keep up the good work, okay, Presley?” Oliver shoots a pair of finger guns at me and strolls off.

I will. From now on, I’m all business. I’m going to put my nose to the grindstone, prove that I’m the best intern here, and snag that job. I’ll rise above all the ridiculous crap that’s happened and take my power back from Dominic, no matter if he is our industry’s cocky young darling.

My phone dings. I check it and almost laugh at the perfect timing. It’s a text from Austin, asking if I can see him again tonight. What better way to try to forget Dominic and his “dates” than to go on an actual date with an actual nice guy? What a concept.

I fire off a quick text to tell him I’m in, and then get back to my daily hustle.

• • •

My buzz of renewed purpose lasts all day. But it wavers when I walk into the bar’s lounge and see Austin sitting with his brow knitted in a grave frown, jiggling his leg and chewing his lip.

The instant he spots me, he jumps up. “Presley! It’s great to see you.”

I hug him cautiously. “You, too. Is everything all right?”

“Not . . . really. Go ahead and sit down. I’ll get us drinks first before I explain.” When he returns from the bar with two beers, he asks, “Are you familiar with Genesis Software?”

“I know the name,” I reply slowly. “All I know about them is what I heard on the news last year. They caused that big data breach—”

“More like we were blamed for it.”

The edge in Austin’s tone surprises me, coming from a guy who’s usually so laid-back and friendly. Then I realize what he just let slip.

“Wait, we? You work for Genesis?”

“My father owns it. And when Aspen Hotels bad-mouthed us to the press, he lost almost everything. Our stock price nose-dived, and we had to lay off six-thousand employees.”

My stomach sinks, and my brain struggles to catch up with his accusation. “You blame Aspen for this?”

“Your CEO—Dominic, was it? His official stance was that the breach at Aspen was our fault, and since the moment he said that, everything’s been crumbling.”

This is headed nowhere good. I work for Aspen, and that’s where my allegiance lies. I’m hoping to win a spot on the management team. Which means I shouldn’t be here.

I push out my chair. “I should probably go.”

Austin’s eyes widen to puppy-dog proportions. “Wait! Please don’t go. I have a request, a simple one. Just hear me out.”

I’m on my feet; I should already be walking away.

But despite myself, I ask, “What could you possibly want from me? I’m sorry to hear your business is going under, I really am, but I have nothing to do with this. I haven’t even been working there for a full month yet.”

“I know. I just . . . God, it sounds petty when I say it out loud, but I need you to insert this into his laptop.” Before I can back away, he presses a jump drive into my hand.Belongs to NôvelDrama.Org - All rights reserved.

“What is this?”

“A small virus,” he says, as if it’s something completely innocuous.

I narrow my eyes. “If it’s so small, why do you want me to release it so badly? What will it do?”

“It’ll prove to him that he’s not the god he thinks he is. He’s not immune; his systems can become corrupt, too, and our software isn’t the bullshit he claimed it was.”

“And why on earth would I jeopardize the company where I’m trying to start my career?”

“Don’t worry, you’ll still have a job. This won’t destroy Aspen, just scare Dominic a little. And I’ll pay you enough to make it worth your risk. Didn’t you mention you had high expenses?”

“There’s no amount of money that could—”

“Please, Presley. I need you to take this for me. It’s the right thing to do.”

I dodge his attempt to rest a hand on my arm. “I’m sorry, but no way.”

“At least think it over. Read this dossier . . .” He sets down a paper-stuffed folder marked with the Genesis logo. “Decide for yourself if we really are the villains he painted us to be.”

I don’t need to think it over. But before I can toss his crap back at him, Austin is already gone, leaving me alone with the folder on the table and the jump drive burning in my hand.

I should just throw them both in the trash. No way in hell would I ever infect Dominic’s computer. He might be a douchebag when it comes to women, but he’s still a skilled CEO, and more importantly, Aspen Hotels doesn’t deserve to go down. At least I don’t think they do…

At the same time, though, it sounds like there’s a lot more to the Genesis story than I was led to believe. Austin has managed to pique my curiosity.

After a minute of hesitation, I stuff it all into my bag to take home. As soon as I get an uninterrupted evening of spare time, I’ll read his intel and then dispose of it. At the very least, I can find out the truth.