The Two Week Arrangement (Penthouse Affair, #1)

Presley

I spend the rest of the evening tossing and turning on Bianca’s couch, searing pain throbbing through my chest whenever I picture the betrayal that was slashed across Dominic’s chiseled features.

I just don’t understand how everything fell apart so fast. A few hours ago, I was on a date with Dominic—a real date. I lost my virginity. I was falling hard and fast for the most difficult, most handsome, most brilliant man I’d ever met, and now . . . Now I’ve not only been dumped, I don’t even know if I still have a job to go to on Monday.

The pain in my chest throbs again. My future was looking so promising, and then it all went up in smoke. I choke back another sob. What the hell am I going to do?

Besides, there’s the not-so-little fact that I still need money, regardless of what happens with my internship. My chest is so tight, I feel like it could shatter into a million pieces at any moment.

I’m just thankful Bianca’s not home to witness my pity party. She’s out on a date and told me not to expect her tonight, which is for the best. I don’t think she’d be too supportive knowing I slept with my boss, and she’d probably want to hunt Austin down and strangle him for what he did. Although, right now, that’s an idea I could get behind.

I can’t believe I trusted Austin—I thought he was actually into me. I thought he wanted to get to know me as a person, and the entire time he was using me for my connection to Dominic. I’m not normally so gullible. I feel like a complete and total failure. On every level.

I take a deep, shuddering breath and decide the only thing that’s going to make me feel any better is talking to my brother. I dial his number, and he picks up on the first ring.

“Hey, sis.” His voice comes out strained, in a hurried whisper.

“Hi. Is . . . this a bad time?”

“I’m just at a party with some people from class. Everything okay?”

“Of course,” I lie. “Just wanted to talk to you, but it’s no problem.” My throat is tight and I can hardly get the words out.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he says over the rush of voices in the background. “The payment for my second term is due in ten days. Wanted to make sure you knew.”Ccontent © exclusive by Nô/vel(D)ra/ma.Org.

My stomach drops. “I’ll have the money.”

“‘Kay. Gotta go. Love you.”

With that, Michael ends the call, and I’m left alone once again, feeling even worse than before, if that’s even possible.

The only silver lining to all of this is that it’s the weekend, and I have the next two days to figure out my next move. The thought of not heading into Aspen on Monday morning makes me physically ill. It’s just not like me to jeopardize my entire career for a fling with a brooding, older man. I have no idea what got into me.

Actually, I do. Dominic Aspen is a very hard man to ignore. The things he made me feel . . . the way he lit up my entire body, challenged me, mentored me . . . He never treated me like an intern, and I guess that was the thing I liked best.

Then again, maybe he was only doing what he did best—winning me over simply because it served his purposes. Paying me for my time because he knew I wouldn’t refuse. Just like he paid for all his other dates.

And with that, an idea pops into my head.

Dominic once mentioned the escort agency he uses for dates. What was its name—Ambrosia? No, it was called Allure. He made escorting sound pretty safe and lucrative. And I already have a little experience with being paid for my companionship . . . so there’s that.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I open my laptop to research Allure. Their website is professional and very tasteful—no nudity, although there are pictures galore of staggeringly gorgeous, lingerie-clad women in come-hither poses. It eases my paranoia only slightly. But if Allure was breaking the law, they wouldn’t be able to have such an easy-to-find website without the police descending on them, right?

Still, my gut twists with anxiety. The idea of being alone with a male stranger who’s paid for my time, who probably has unspoken expectations, who maybe even lied to the agency about what he wanted . . . would I be able to back out? And even if there was no immediate danger, what if anyone found out about this little venture? How safe would my secret be? How would it affect my ability to find another job and get my career back on track?

Terrible what-ifs run rampant through my mind. Yet I also can’t forget that there’s only a couple of short months until Michael’s next semester begins, and he’ll need even more money.

I pick up my tarot deck, hesitate, then put it back down. I’m desperate for some hint to help get me out of this mess. But I know that consulting the cards will only illuminate my own intuition . . . and deep down, I already get the feeling that Allure isn’t the right path for me.

What else can I do, though? I ruined everything, destroyed Dominic’s trust in me, and I’m almost certainly unemployed now. I need to be able to keep feeding myself and putting Michael through school. I need a way to make money until I can find another job, and this is the easiest option I’ve come up with so far. Or, at least, the quickest.

Maybe it’s not as bad as I’m imagining. Maybe I can get a gig where all I have to do is be arm candy, like I did with Dominic? A courtesan. It’s a profession as old as time.

I don’t want to think about Dominic anymore. I need to take action, to feel like I’m the one in control again. In the upper right-hand corner of the website, I click a button that says apply. I can always change my mind later if it doesn’t feel right.

Taking a deep breath, I start filling out the online form. I just don’t know whether to pray for acceptance or rejection by the mysterious Allure.