Seven Nights of Sin (Penthouse Affair #2)

Jet lag is a major drag. I never really understood that until last night. I tossed and turned for hours before slipping into a fitful sleep.

After coming to the decision that I have to put my career first, I decide I can’t let these little setbacks affect me. I roust myself out of bed, power down two cups of scalding-hot coffee, and make my way to work like it’s my job.

It is your job, Presley. Wow, I must be tired.

The click-click of my heels on the office floor is a familiar sound. Yes, this is what I need—a consistent and predictable work environment in which I can be the best version of myself. Not an undefined relationship with a man whose mood changes so dramatically that I wonder if he’s really two people. The first, a charming, funny, considerate man. The other, a loathsome asshole with no consideration for the feelings of others.

No, I don’t have time to juggle my work and a man who can’t decide who he is. I’m still figuring out who I am.

My determined stride across the office falters as I spot Jordan, packing his personal items away into a box. Why?

“Jordan!”

“Oh, hey, Prez,” he says in his usual chipper way. But his dimpled smile doesn’t reach his big blue eyes.

“What’s going on?”

packed up. I guess no one

the plane I disembarked just yesterday hadn’t landed safely at all, but rather

get packing too.” Jordan hands me an empty box, then turns back to his almost empty desk, once covered in his alma mater’s insignia, pictures of his dog, and an assortment of bobblehead dolls.

my eyes. “Jordan .

going to be fine. You’re practically a genius, so you’ll get a paying job in no time. And who can resist this face?” He smiles with his

could return the enthusiasm, but all I can manage is a sad half smile and a

in college. They’ve

books, and a preserved sticky note my mother wrote for me back in middle school. I love my smart girl! it reads

and for a moment consider throwing it in the trash. Smarts can only get me so far, Mom. But if

go into the box, which

“Oh, you’re here already?”

squeeze my eyes closed. I’d recognize that voice underwater if I had

behind me, probably leaning against the empty desk kitty-corner to mine that

doesn’t deserve my attention, the bitter little girl in me insists. Even as angry as I am, I know how

say over my