The Two Week Arrangement (Penthouse Affair, #1)

Presley

You’re only as small as your dreams.Exclusive © material by Nô(/v)elDrama.Org.

That’s what my mother said to me in the hours before cancer took her. That sentiment is the cornerstone I’ve based my life on ever since. I don’t do small. It’s not in my vocabulary. I dream big or not at all. I take risks, fight for what I want, and push myself to live life to the fullest.

It’s the only way I know how to honor my mother’s words. I also make sure my younger brother does the same. He’s just finished his first year at one of the country’s most prestigious ballet academies.

My mother would be proud of us both. My father, not so much. She would hate the man he’s become.

He never calls, and when we do talk, he speaks mostly in grunts and monosyllables. He’s about as supportive as an overcooked noodle. He threatened to back out of paying for my brother’s schooling if he majored in dance, and then made good on that promise when Michael came out as gay.

But I swore to Michael that we don’t need him, our father who I now view as little more than a sperm donor. Sure, I’ll have to work a little harder, dream a little bigger, to take care of both my brother and myself, but it’s nothing I can’t do.

Which leads me to today.

“Today’s the day, huh?” my best friend and roommate, Bianca, asks from her perch on the couch.

I gulp down one last sip of my now cold coffee and grimace as I swallow. “Yup. Today’s the day.”

“You’re not nervous, are you?” She levels me with a deadpan stare. “You’re the baddest bitch I know, Presley.”

I chuckle and roll my eyes. Bianca is good for my ego. Every time I brought home a paper with an A, every report card that boasted a perfect 4. 0 grade point average, every scholarship I was awarded and internship I succeeded at, Bianca would only give me a knowing stare. It was her equivalent of saying see, I told you so.

But this internship is different. She knows that as well as I do. Rather than taking the safety net of a steady job when we graduated last month, I held out hope that I would win one of the coveted spots at Aspen Hotels.

And now that I have, the butterflies inside my stomach are kicking around like crazed ninjas.

At my pause, she rises and grips my shoulders, giving them a comforting squeeze. “Tell me you’re not worried.”

“About the internship? No.”

But I’m lying. I am a teensy bit worried. It’s only human, right? This is the biggest opportunity I’ve ever had, and I don’t want to blow it. And there’s the not-so-little issue of money. The internship is unpaid.

I let out a slow exhale. “It’s just . . . what the heck am I going to do for money, B?”

I’ve just signed on for three months of unpaid work in the hopes of landing my dream job. But hope doesn’t pay the bills. I do. Or rather, I did.

Bianca doesn’t try to sugarcoat things or blow off my concern as something trivial. She knows me well enough to know I wouldn’t be stressed unless there was truly something to worry about. And she knows the tuition at my brother’s school is astronomical.

She just scratches her chin, looking concerned. Trying to assure me, she says, “It’ll all be fine.”

I nod in agreement, but the truth is, she can’t know that. I’m already behind on all my bills, and I’ve been supporting Michael since my dad disowned him last year. Knowing I’ve just agreed to take an unpaid internship doesn’t exactly sit well with me. If I don’t land the executive position at the end of this highly competitive internship, I’ll be truly screwed.

Four of the country’s top college graduates were accepted into the accelerated program, but I need to be the one to rise to the top—no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

Bianca fidgets. “You can stay here as long as you need to.”

I nod at her offer, but the truth is I disagree. I don’t want to overstay my welcome or take advantage of my best friend. Plus, crashing on her couch isn’t exactly how I pictured living my best life post-graduation. I’m in my twenties now. It’s time to get my shit together.

“I need to finish getting ready,” I say to Bianca as I carry my mug to the sink and rinse it out.

“Knock ’em dead, girlfriend,” she calls.

I head into the bathroom and grab a tube of lipstick from inside my makeup bag.

It only takes eight seconds to make a lasting first impression. These are the words I repeat to myself as I look in the mirror, fussing with my long, wavy brown hair. I arrange the dark tresses over one shoulder and purse my lips at my reflection.

I hate that I look younger than my twenty-two years. My friends tease that it will become an advantage later in life, but for now, having a baby face is annoying, to say the least. Especially when I want nothing more than to be seen as a professional businesswoman.

Actually, scratch that. I want to be seen as a confident business mogul. That’s what it will take to win the job of my dreams. Coming across as flaky or too young will only hurt my chances.

For the next three months, I’ll be competing for an executive position at the most prestigious hotel chain in the world. Working at Aspen Hotels has been my dream job forever. You don’t grow up in Seattle and not know the Aspen brand. It’s a coveted spot, and one I’ll have to work hard for.

Drawing in a deep breath, I give myself a silent pep talk. You’ve got this, Presley. My inner voice sounds a lot like my mother, and that makes me break into a smile. Honoring her memory by busting my ass is pretty much my only pastime these days.

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.