Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
I nod in understanding. “Okay, but just promise me you’ll be safe.” I frame his stubbled jaw with my hands. “I’ve grown quite fond of you. And it would suck to lose the man I love and the father of my children.”
“Children?” He quirks a brow.
“Well, with how many times you’ve come in me, I’m bound to be pregnant by now.”
I roll my eyes, and he barks out a laugh.
“Just admit you want to have more of my babies,” he says, a twinkle in his eye.
“I mean, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world,” I admit. “At least it would give me something to do all day. Between you working and Damien going to school, I’m bored out of my mind here.”
I slide out of the passenger seat and close the door, and Dominick meets me by the door to the house.
“Be ready to leave tomorrow at seven … and dress professionally.”
“To drop Damien off at school?”
I get out and walk him into his class every morning, but yoga pants and a tank top are as dressed up as I get, even if the other rich, stuck-up moms glare at me judgingly.
“No.” He chuckles. “To go to work with me. As much as I love seeing your peach of an ass in those tight pants you wear around the house, I don’t think it’s appropriate in a place of business.”
My eyes widen. When I said I wanted him to talk to me, I didn’t mean I wanted to be a part of whatever they were plotting.
“I am not capable of killing anyone,” I blurt out, making him double over in laughter.
“Fuck, baby. I needed that.” He slides his arm across my shoulders and walks us inside. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t go around killing people on a regular basis,” he says.
I raise a brow, silently reminding him of his conversation with Matteo, and he shakes his head.
“Touché,” he says with a laugh, pulling me into his side and giving my temple a kiss. “Tou-fucking-ché.”
32
Peyton
He was being serious. He brought me to work with him, but not to his office downtown. No, we’re standing in the beautiful lobby of Hotel Blu, a resort that—according to Dominick—has three pools, a state-of-the-art gym, a luxury spa, a private golf course, and many other amenities.
“I can’t believe you own this,” I say in awe.
He told me before he owned a few hotels, but I never pictured them to look like this.
Actually … now that I’m thinking about it, this place screams Dominick. It’s luxurious yet understated. It screams wealth, but isn’t ostentatious—similar to his home.
“And when we get married, you’ll own it as well,” he says nonchalantly, like he didn’t just mention us getting married and sharing his assets with me in one breath. “Which is why I thought you’d like to work here.”
“You want me to work here?” I breathe out, scanning the place with new eyes.
It’s my dream job. What I worked through school for. But …
“I don’t want to be given a job just because I’m sleeping with you. I mean, I know the sex is good, but …” I smirk, half joking, but Dominick doesn’t laugh.
“There are two things I don’t mess around with: my family and my businesses. If I didn’t think you were capable, I wouldn’t have brought you here.”
He takes my hand and saunters through the hall and into a room marked PRIVATE. It’s an office, just as luxurious as the hotel, with a sleek mahogany desk and a comfy brown leather couch.
He slides one of the visitor seats back for me and then rounds the desk, sitting on the other side. He reaches into his briefcase and pulls out a file, which he pushes across the desk, opening it for me to see.
I eye what he’s showing me for several seconds, and then I glance up at him in shock.
“That’s my résumé.” I flip through the pages. “And my grades and internships. You have my letters of recommendations.”
And then it hits me. When I submitted applications to local hotels on a job finder site, I applied to this one.
“Based on your degree and experience, I’d like to offer you a paid internship position. Vaughn, the hotel manager, has been asking to be considered for a position at the new hotel when it’s complete. Since it’s going to be a little bit before that happens, I told him he could start training his replacement.”
“And there’s no one else in-house who wants to move up?”
“Nobody that has the glowing résumé you have.” He leans back and steeples his fingers over his torso. “You said your dream was to work in hospitality at a hotel. Now, you can have it.”
“Why are you doing this?” I ask curiously. “I thought you wanted me pregnant. Won’t it be pointless to go through the trouble of training me, only to have me take maternity leave?”