The Two-Week Arrangement Read online

  Despite my nerves, I know I’m ready for this. Dressed in a pair of black pants, a crisp white button-down shirt, and a pair of black heels, I’m ready for anything they throw my way.

  Bring it.

  • • •

  The gleaming glass doors leading to the beautiful Aspen hotel have always been out of reach. But not today. I’ve never even been inside the lobby of a five-star hotel, but this morning, I stroll inside with purpose, pausing only briefly as my heels click across the shiny marble floors. The emailed instructions I received directed me to the nineteenth floor, so I proceed to the bank of elevators lining the far wall.

  Everywhere I look there are fine tapestries and gleaming mahogany, elegant paintings, and helpful members of the hotel staff dressed in crisp navy-blue suits. I take in every detail surrounding me and can’t help but smile as I step inside the elevator. On the nineteenth floor, I step out onto plush navy carpeting that contrasts with walls wallpapered in shades of cream.

  A little-known fact about the hotel, at least this particular location in the heart of downtown, is that in addition to the six hundred guest rooms, it also houses the corporate offices, which are directly below the penthouse home of CEO Dominic Aspen.

  His reputation as a CEO is that he’s intense and demanding, and a little bit mysterious. I guess I’ll find out.

  I make my way to a meeting room at the far end of the hall. Before I enter, I check my phone and see that I’m eight minutes early. Perfect. I’ve always subscribed to the notion that on time is late, and early is on time.

  When I enter, I’m greeted by a woman who looks to be in her fifties. She’s short and stocky and has a ready smile when she spots me.

  “Hello. Welcome. You must be Presley Harper.” She holds out her hand in greeting, and I shake it.

  “Yes, it’s nice to meet you . . .”

  “Beth Darvill, but Beth is fine. I’m the executive assistant to Mr. Aspen and the coordinator for the intern program. Please have a seat. We’ll begin once everyone has arrived.”

  I settle into my seat at the large conference table and take stock of my competition.

  A petite Asian girl sits beside me in an expensive-looking black suit, and a guy who looks to be of Indian heritage sits beside her with a serious expression. Neither greets me. We wait in silence for the fourth and final intern to arrive. With one minute to spare, he finally bursts into the room wearing a lopsided grin.

  “I’m here! Made it in the nick of time. Jordan Provost.”

  As Beth gestures him into the seat beside me, I quickly take his measure. His tie is too loose and his hair is a little too long on the top. He reminds me of the frat guys I used to avoid during undergrad. Fantastic.

  We spend the next hour receiving an overview of the internship program from Beth, and I also meet my fellow interns. In addition to Jordan, there’s Jenny and Aarav. Apparently, the four of us have been selected from a pool of over a thousand applicants. I’m fairly certain that Jordan, with his tattered notebook and no pen to take notes with, is the son of someone important. Jenny, Aarav, and I all take dutiful notes on our laptops. I type every word Beth says just so I don’t miss anything.

  I learn that we’ll share an open work space on the twentieth floor. That despite this internship being non-paid, we’ll have access to the employee cafeteria, as well as the hotel fitness facility and pool.

  I doubt I’ll have much free time to go for a swim—I’ve heard to expect ninety-hour work weeks for the next three months, assuming I’ll be the one chosen for this position—but that doesn’t bother me. I’m here for one thing and one thing only. And I intend to win.

  Beth pauses, and I lift my gaze to the front of the room. “You’ve each been paired with a member of our executive team. This person will act as a mentor to you and will oversee your day-to-day work on the project that you’ll be assigned. You will have two weeks to make a great impression. If after those two weeks, you don’t convince your mentor that you deserve a shot, you’ll be let go.”

  A hushed silence falls over the room. I didn’t know about this two-week stipulation, and it seems the other interns didn’t either. This ups the ante even more.

  Then Beth continues. “At the end of the three-month internship, the executive team will meet and discuss which of the remaining candidates they would like to extend an offer to. God willing, one of you will become a new associate executive here at Aspen Hotels.”

  I smile, giddy at the thought of the title associate executive behind my name.

  “Now, let’s take a short bathroom break, and I’ll call the executive team in so that you can meet your mentor and get started on your assigned project.” Beth rises to her feet in sensible pumps.

  I scurry off to the restrooms at the end of the hall and quickly check my reflection and wash my hands. My bladder is too nervous for me to do anything else, so I head back to the conference room and find four new people already inside.

  I slide into my seat and feel four sets of eyeballs appraising me. It’s a little intimidating to know that these people probably know just about everything there is to know about me and I’m virtually flying blind here.

  Actually, they’ve only spent time getting to know me on paper. They might know I had a full-ride academic scholarship to Brown, and that I graduated at the top of my class while working two jobs, but they don’t know me. Not really. I pull a much needed deep breath into my lungs.

  I recognize the man standing at the center of the room as Dominic Aspen, but wow is all my brain can come up with. Seeing him in person is so much different than reading about him in a business journal or seeing his photo online. He’s well over six feet tall with broad shoulders that fill out his suit jacket perfectly and a trim waist, but it’s not just his physical presence that overwhelms my senses, it’s the amount of confidence he exudes. Dear God, he could bottle the stuff and sell it. He’d make a fortune. Maybe it’s because his dark hair is perfectly styled, and there’s an appraising gleam in his eyes, like he knows something we don’t. Or maybe it’s because I can’t help but picture how his inky hair would look rumpled after sex. Either way, it tugs at something in me, and I can’t take my eyes away from him as he speaks. His jaw is square and shaved close, and his lips are full and soft looking. In his hands are two things—a smartphone and a small leather case.

  The way the tailored black suit stretches over his muscular chest and wide shoulders is distracting, to say the least, and I can’t help my gaze from roaming, taking stock of him. But the guy’s a twenty-six-year-old billionaire. I’m sure he can afford the best personal trainer, tailor, and nutritionist money can buy. But you can’t buy confidence, and this guy has it in spades.

  I think back to this morning at the apartment when I told myself I was ready for anything. Apparently, anything didn’t include the heart-racing near panic attack I have when Dominic Aspen opens his mouth to speak, welcoming us personally to the company. And I definitely wasn’t ready for my panties to become soaking wet when he fixes me with that heavy, dark blue stare of his.

  What the hell? I take a deep breath and appraise his companions in an attempt to distract myself from his raw masculinity and my body’s unwelcome reaction to it. His lips part, then come together again.

  Two women flank his sides, both the very picture of professionalism. One is an older blonde wearing a gray suit, her hair in a tidy bun, and the other is a brunette who looks to be in her mid-thirties in a knee-length black dress. Neither offers any sort of smile.

  The man at the end is the only one of the group smiling. His dimpled grin is almost infectious. He’s tall, but not as tall as Dominic.

  I suddenly feel foolish for not researching the executive staff more thoroughly online. I should know who they are, where they studied, their pet peeves. Everything. Then again, I had no idea I’d be paired to work with someone so important and vital to the company. I assumed that as an unpaid intern, I’d be assisting some low-paid grunt worker. But I guess it goes to
show they really are taking this internship seriously.

  I have no idea who my mentor may be, but I can’t wait to find out. Then I realize that if Mr. Aspen himself is here, does that mean he’s one of the mentors?

  That can’t be fair, can it? The intern who has direct access to the CEO would surely be at an advantage. Unless Dominic Aspen was direct witness to a screwup, and then you’d be out of here on the first elevator down. So maybe it’s not an advantage after all.

  Beth smiles warmly at Mr. Aspen before she starts again. “Wonderful. Now that we’ve discussed our expectations of you, I’d like to introduce you to your mentor for the next three months. Jenny, you’ll be working with Pamela Brightworth.”

  The older blonde woman smiles and comes forward to shake Jenny’s hand.

  “Aarav, you’ve been paired with Renee Hildreth.”

  The brunette crosses the room and gives Aarav’s hand a firm shake. “Go, Blue,” she says to him, and Aarav smiles. They must share the same alma mater.

  “Presley,” Beth says, and then Dominic places his hand on her forearm to stop her. He leans close and whispers something to her in a hushed tone. Her eyes meet mine and she nods, whispering something to him in response.

  “Presley, you’ll be paired with Dominic,” she says.

  My stomach jumps.

  I feel all the other interns eyeing me as this little announcement is made, and I can’t help but wonder if they’ll judge me, or think I’ll have an unfair advantage being matched with the CEO himself.

  Nerves twist inside me as Dominic approaches, pocketing his smartphone. He extends one large hand toward me, and I reach out to accept his greeting. The moment my hand is enclosed in his, chills skitter down my spine.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” he says.

  When his deep voice washes over me, I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. Thankfully, Beth continues without missing a beat.

  I don’t even hear the remaining introductions, but Jordan is paired with the man—Oliver something, I think she says. It’s impossible to hear much or to think clearly when my heart is thumping so hard that blood is roaring through my eardrums.

  When everyone stands and begins to file out of the room, I rise to my feet, determined to put my momentary lapse in judgment behind me.

  He’s just a man, a very attractive man who runs a very big company. But at the end of the day, he puts his pants on one leg at a time, just like everyone else.

  Maybe it wasn’t the smartest idea to picture Dominic without pants, because suddenly he’s standing in front of me and my cheeks are flaming.

  “Dominic Aspen. It’s nice to meet you.” He extends his hand toward me, and I take it, shaking it firmly twice.

  “I’m Presley Harper. I’m happy to be here.”

  “Are you ready? I’ll show you to your work space.” His voice is so deep and rich, little goose bumps break out over my arms.

  I nod. “Let’s do it.” Oh my God, did that sound sexual? “I didn’t mean do it. I just meant, yes, let’s go upstairs. Not to your place or anything.” I stammer, sure that my face is as red as a tomato.

  Seeming amused by me and my obvious lack of a filter, Dominic only smiles. “This way.”

  Rather than wait for the elevator with the others, Dominic turns left out of the conference room and we duck into a stairwell that requires a special keycard to access.

  We head up one flight of stairs and then enter what appears to be an office area, complete with rows of tidy gray cubicles, a wall of copy machines and printers, and a cluster of offices tucked into corners and lining the far wall. I get the sense that I’m looking at my new home away from home, and I like it. There’s a serious, yet professional vibe in the air around us as the support staff busily tap away at keyboards in front of them.

  “This will be your desk,” Dominic says, stopping beside a small gray cubicle in the center of the room.

  This is it, my home away from home for the next three months. I take a deep breath and nod. “Great. I’m ready to get started.”

  Dominic watches me with curiosity, a smirk tugging up his lips while my heart continues hammering away.

  Chapter Three

  Dominic

  Not all of her hair fits into the thin band tying up Presley’s ponytail. A few pieces have escaped, framing her face. I can tell she’d rather it all fit neatly back by the way she efficiently tucks the strands behind her ears. She has delicate features, and her petite frame sits perched on the chair just outside my office. It’s a little more distracting than I realized it would be.

  After I left her to review our business history, she pulled her hair back and dug straight in, a look of concentration on her face.

  I emailed her the necessary files for her perusal—who we deal with, how our staff is organized, which department handles which process, all the basics. There’s no better way for her to learn than to read, and I have too many emails in my in-box to walk her through it all. She doesn’t seem like the type who needs hand-holding anyway.

  Even from across the office, I can see her brow furrowed in deep concentration. I realize I haven’t read a single email since I sent her the files. I’ve been too preoccupied with staring at my newest hire.

  Goddamn.

  Presley really does look young. She can’t be much older than legal drinking age. I pull up her résumé on my computer and skim over it for the second time today.

  Brown graduate. A rival. I smirk.

  GPA of 4.0. To be expected.

  Won a national coding competition. Interesting.

  She’s impressive, to say the least, but not any more so than the other three candidates. Then, why was it that as soon as she walked in the room, I wanted her as my personal intern?

  I swallow the obvious answer with a sip of scalding coffee. I’m attracted to her.

  Perhaps appointing her as my personal intern wasn’t the wisest idea. It’s obvious that my dick was making the executive decisions this time. I can’t afford distractions. Then I realize it’s not too late to change my mind.

  I begin drafting an email to Beth.

  Beth –

  Please reassign Presley until further notice. Not the right fit. Perhaps trade with Oliver?

  Dom

  “I’m done.”

  Before I can click SEND, Presley is standing in my doorway, waiting for my response.

  She’s done? “Already?”

  “Yes.”

  That’s hard to believe. I gave her dozens of files containing documents of thirty or more pages each.

  I close out of the email without sending it as she walks closer. “How could you get through those so quickly?”

  “I reached out to Beth last week and asked for any learning materials. She shared all the ones that aren’t your private office affairs with me. I was able to get through the confidential documents in an hour. I figure my time here shouldn’t be spent learning how to spend my time here. I’d rather be of use to you.”

  Wow.

  “I’m impressed,” I say with a genuine smile. Is that a blush I see on her cheeks?

  “It’s basic preparatory work. Where should we begin?”

  In moments, Presley is standing over my shoulder as I show her the online database she’ll be using to access our business files. I explain to her our current hotel operations across the nation, not worrying about simplifying any language. She asks the right questions and admits when she’d like a recap on a particular subject. By the end, she offers to compile a spreadsheet of our favorite food and beverage vendors to compare prices. I’m sold.

  “I’ll just need to track down the account numbers so I can make the inquiries and get you some quotes. I should have it done in the next forty-eight hours.”

  “This would have been done already, but our last director of operations had a sudden exit from the company—” I stop short. No need to explain yourself to a twenty-two-year-old intern.

  “Understandable. It’s no trouble,”
she says.

  Presley hasn’t cracked a smile this entire conversation. I find myself wondering what her face would look like with those full pink lips curled up. I’ve seen her cheeks go rosy more than once now. What will it take to make her smile?

  When she leans over my desk to pick up a folder with her name on it, I’m struck by the scent of her shampoo, vanilla and almond. It’s classic, simple, understated. Just like her.

  Fuck. Get it together, Dom. I take a sobering breath.

  I’ve kept my entire personal life hidden from the public—my clients, employees, and the press. I can certainly keep my attraction to one woman in check. And I won’t be trading her with Oliver on the basis of my horniness. Discriminating against someone in the workplace based on their looks isn’t a practice I support. Even if her looks are wildly distracting. She’s obviously more than qualified.

  “Dominic?”

  My eyes snap up to hers. Shit. “What did you say?”

  “I asked if this is my first assignment.” She’s holding the folder that bears her name.

  “It is.” Inside the folder is my proposal for a new construction staffing dispersal. More people on neglected floors, less wasted energy on the floors that just need remodeling. It’ll be a large expense, but worthwhile in the long run.

  “When can we discuss it?”

  “It’s all in there.”

  “I believe that, but—apprentice to mentor—I’d like to spend a little time together,” she says, and her face flushes. “To discuss the p-proposal. Of course.”

  “Sure,” I say, fighting a smile. What is with this woman and her odd way of saying things? Her repeated use of sexual innuendo is apparently unintentional, which makes it all the more amusing.

  “Five minutes of your time tomorrow, then? Unless you can go longer.”

  “I can go for as long as you’d like,” I reply smoothly.