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“They’re all families on the list, I know the basic history about all the names on it,” I tell them.
“Holy shit,” Hawthorn says, leaning forward, taking the list from Gulliver and holding it in front of me. “How many more of the shareholders are names off the list?”
Five minutes later, Kip has notes next to twenty-five out of the thirty companies on the list.
“So, most of the shares are owned by families who were hoping Penelope was going to marry their sons and they’d all inherit billions?” my sister asks.
“It looks that way,” Kip replies. “And that works out perfectly for us. Once the world finds out that Penelope isn’t marriage fodder anymore, I’ll bet they’ll be happy to get rid of the shares.”
“So we need to announce it with a bang,” Izabella says excitedly. “Maybe with another article or something?”
“What about a big fucking party?” Hawthorn suggests. “We can invite every fucker off your list and announce that the money’s gone and that you’re off the market,” he growls, dragging me to him and kissing me.
“It’s not the worst idea in the world,” Kip says thoughtfully, interrupting our kiss and pulling all attention to him.
“What’s not?” I ask a little breathlessly.
“Having a big party and inviting all the families off the list. We’ll officially announce that Penelope has made the decision to relinquish her claim on her inheritance, and then while they’re all sulking over having lost out on the chance of marrying into a billion-dollar payout, we’ll approach them about buying their shares,” he says with a smirk.
“That’s actually sort of brilliant.” Davis snickers.
“Maybe we should invite your mom and dad too,” Gulliver sneers.
“We can’t, didn’t you hear? They’re dead, killed in a tragic yachting accident,” I say, smiling widely.
Everyone bursts into laughter, and somehow, I think I just became part of the group.
27
HAWTHORN
Watching my Princess laugh and be relaxed and happy around my friends is a huge fucking relief. I thought it’d take months, maybe even years, for her to become one of us, but somehow she fits right in, just like Izzy did.
I’ll happily take Penelope any way she comes, I don’t need my friends approval, but it’s a massive fucking relief to know that I won’t have to pick between her and them. Davis is still scowling, but he’ll get over it once he gets a chance to know Penelope and realizes that she’s not the monster they both think she is.
From the look of happiness in Izzy’s eyes, I know she’s ecstatic to have the chance to try to build a relationship with her twin. I just hope that Penelope can try to let her in, at least a little bit.
We spend the next few hours chatting about the party, the guest list, the location, and whether we should leak the Rhodeses’ death to the papers before or after. The girls both feel like it’s important to get into the house, so it makes sense to start the whispers of their parents’ demise first. Plus, it’s probably bad taste for them to throw a party a week after their mom and dad are lost at sea.
“We need to find out where Mom and Dad actually are,” Izzy says, taking a sip from a glass of homemade lemonade Beth just brought out.
“I’d guess at Monaco, Barbados, or Dubai,” Penelope says.
“I’ll get my guy on it, he’ll track their credit cards and passports, it shouldn’t take him more than a couple of days,” Gulliver offers, moving Izzy to sit on the couch while he stands and walks to the other side of the patio, his cell already to his ear.
Beth appears carrying a platter full of delicious-looking sandwiches and an urn full of hot, steaming soup. The moment she sees the food, Penelope tenses, sucking in a shaky breath. Leaning into her, I press my lips to her ear and whisper just loud enough for her to hear, “Do you need me to help? To take over?”
Her nod is barely perceptible, but I feel it, and it takes all of my self-control to bite back the growl that forms on my lips.
“Your mom isn’t in control of you any more, Princess. She doesn’t get to tell you what to eat, or wear, or feel. The only person who can tell you what to do anymore is me. If you hear her voice in your head, I want you to tell me, because she doesn’t own you, I do. You’re mine, Penelope. My Princess, my girl, mine. Now I’m going to go and make you a plate, and then you’re going to sit in my lap and you’re going to try to eat. If you hear her voice, you’re going to squeeze my thigh, and I’m going to make her go away. Do you understand?”
Leaning back into me, I feel her muscles sag, and when she nods, I press a kiss to the fluttering pulse in her throat.
Lifting her from my lap, I cross to the table laden with food and quickly make plates for us, then pull her back onto my thighs and hand hers to her. Her fingers are shaking as she takes it, and I hold my breath, terrified that she’ll lose it again the way she did this morning.
Not bothering to touch my own food, I focus on her, watching as she reaches for a sandwich, then immediately drops her hand to my leg and squeezes.
Curling my arm tightly around her waist, I press my lips to her ear. “I’m so fucking proud of you, Princess. I don’t know everything she did, but you survived, and now you get to thrive and know that it’s all in spite of her ugly, jealous, old ass. She’s insignificant, she doesn’t matter, and neither do any of her rules. You broke free, and you make your own rules now. You do as you please, when you please, and the only person you answer to is me. You’re so fucking brave, Penelope. So you’re going to try to eat, and you’re not going to feel bad about it or think about the calories, you’re just going to enjoy it. And I’m going to watch you, my dick getting impossibly harder just for you, because I’m the luckiest man in the world that you’re mine.”
