“I’m not so sure about that. And now, you’re dating someone who has done illegal things.”
Standing primly, I refrained my temper from lashing back. “Penn is a good person. Or are you forgetting your approval when he first arrived?”
“A criminal record changes things, Elle.” He slouched. “I want you to be happy, but I don’t want Belle Elle to be dragged into this sort of scandal.”
“The company can handle it. Why does the public opinion have so much sway over my personal relationships?”
Dad stood, patrolling around his office, bypassing awards for best retail experience, best merchandise, and best charity donations to organizations who supported fair wages. We followed the law and did our part for the world in all things business. Belle Elle ran my life. I wouldn’t let it rule my love life, too.
“Because the public is our business, Elle. If you continue to drag the company’s good will through the muck of prison and criminals, then I fear what sort of future you’ll leave your heir.”
“My what?”
“Your children. Come on. Be smart about this. I’m only trying to protect you, Elle.”
I let him pace around me, holding my cool. Barely. “I’m not ending it with him. I’m in love with him.”
“You barely know him.”
“You were happy for me to marry him after four days. Now that I’ve been with him for five months, you say it’s too soon?”
“Five months while he’s been in jail.”
“It doesn’t matter. Not everyone is perfect. Those who make mistakes but learn from them are better than those who have made none. He makes me happy. That’s all you need worry yourself with.”
I didn’t wait for his reply.
With my hands balled, I left his office and stalked into mine.
I loved my father, but I was done taking orders.
Penn is mine.
And he’s going to stay that way.
*
“Visitor, Elle.” Fleur knocked gently on my office door after lunch.
I hadn’t stopped to eat. In fact, I hadn’t stopped since I’d sat down and fully looked at the financial statements and future dated campaigns. Fleur had done a great job, but a few areas had slipped through our fastidious control.
“If it’s my father again, tell him I’ll come over tonight, and we can discuss it like adults. But nothing will change, so he might as well get used to it.”
Fleur took a few steps over the threshold. “It’s not your father.” Her mouth tipped up into the biggest smile. “It’s your fiancé.”
Instantly, I leaped from my chair and crossed the large space. Sage meowed from her basket, wondering if I was leaving or not.
Before I could assure her I wasn’t going anywhere, Penn appeared, dressed in low-slung dark jeans and a black untucked shirt. He looked carefree and reckless and just as delicious.
The itch of having him last night wasn’t sated, and my mouth watered to taste him again. To finish what he’d started last time he was here and be wicked together with orgasm-related fun.
“Hi.” My cheeks pinked, picturing him inside me. How sexy he was. How lucky I was.
Only, he didn’t wrap an arm around me and whisper hello in his raspy lustful voice.
He didn’t smile.
In fact, he took a step back, holding up his hand. “Elle...don’t.”
Icebergs slithered down my spine. “Don’t what? What is it?”
Fleur left, leaving us alone.
What the hell could’ve changed since I left him a few hours ago until now? His eyes tightened with pain. Pain matched inside me the longer he stared. “I—I have something to give you.”
I rubbed my arms, my hands squeaking over the fabric of my wardrobe. The silver sundress with black panels over the chest that Fleur had picked out was a nod to the night we’d gone to his charity gala. My own way of telling him whatever happened that night was over because the lies were gone and we were together. “Give me what?”
A rap sounded on my door. Before I could snap for whoever it was to leave us alone, Dad popped his head in.
His gaze instantly latched onto Penn. “Ah, I thought I saw you.” Moving into the room, he closed the door ominously behind him.
Goosebumps erupted full of fear.
I had no idea what was going on, but it hurt like hell already.
Dad held out his hand, trying to hide his thoughts (unsuccessfully) about the ridiculous news articles and slight inconvenience Penn’s background was causing.
Penn swallowed back his own emotions, shaking Dad’s hand. “Mr. Charlston.”
Dad smiled. “Congratulations on being acquitted. I’m so glad.” His voice lowered with sincerity. “I know I wasn’t exactly supportive while you were locked up, but I want you to know, I never stopped being grateful to you for saving Elle.” His soft gray eyes met mine. “She means everything to me. I get a little protective when anything tries to hurt her—reporters included.”
Penn dropped his hand, shoving it into his pocket. “I understand.”
Unlike last night when I got on my knees and sucked him, he wasn’t doing it to hold himself back. He stood protective of himself—a safety thing to keep himself rigid and firm to do whatever it was he’d come to do.
Don’t let him.
I had no idea what had changed, but every instinct screamed to stop him...before it was too late.
Striding to his side, I slinked an arm around his waist and kissed his cheek. “Do you want to grab some lunch? Maybe take a quick walk and get some fresh air?”
Penn shivered at my closeness then stiffened. Never looking at me, he clenched his jaw and sidestepped out of my embrace.
He didn’t answer my question, sticking to his script, giving me no way to stop him. “There’s something I came to do.”
I trembled in terror, wishing I could grab the hands of a clock and shoot us back to last night when everything had been so rosy and bright.
Dad frowned. “What is it you came to do, Mr. Everett?”
My heart sank. It didn’t escape my notice or Penn’s that Dad had gone from calling him son back to his formal address. Just like Penn had called him Mr. Charlston.
This is all so wrong.
Penn needed to be welcomed—to feel as if he belonged because he did. Just because it would be rough for the next few months in the tabloids didn’t mean Dad had to be cruel.
“Dad, Penn saved me. He deserves—”
“Don’t, Elle.” Penn pulled one hand out of his pocket and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s best if your father is here to hear this.” His voice stayed calm and focused, but his muscles tensed, his back going overly straight.
“Hear what?” I locked my knees from sudden quaking.
“About our fake engagement.” He looked at the carpet, his voice bitter and sharp, his body broken and sad. “I think it’s time to call it off.” He exhaled in a rush, the raw agony in his eyes a bleeding wound.
“What?”
Dad interrupted. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I think it’s best—for everyone involved—if we go our separate ways.”
I stumbled. “You can’t be serious.”