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They call after us, before backing away and scattering.
I tighten my grip on Leah’s waist. “Are you being a naughty girl, Leah Walker? Am I going to have to punish you?” I ask against her lips. “Just so you know, they are getting nowhere near my orgasm-inducing cock. That’s all yours.”
I can feel Leah’s grin against my lips and love the fact the twinkle has returned to her eyes. Whatever Kat said to her has undone some of the damage Elijah inflicted.
“I hate gold diggers,” she says, laughing. “And money does not equal class.”
“Here, here,” comes a voice behind us. “I don’t know about you, Gabe, but I think I’m in love.” I spin to face the one person at this party I can stand apart from family. “Are you going to introduce us?”
I step back from Leah and pull the woman before me in for a hug. “Pen,” I say, kissing her cheek. At almost my height, there’s little to no bending down.
“Hi Gabe, and this beautiful woman must be Leah,” she says, stepping around me before enveloping Leah in a hug of her own.
“Hi,” Leah squeaks, trying to catch my gaze, taking in the Amazonian-sized woman in front of her.
Pen is quite something. Standing at six foot, her newly dyed black hair matches the ebony of the dress she’s wearing. In true Pen style, she’s dressed to shock. I wonder if Pen is where Harper gets her inspiration. The dress is floor length, with an open front split almost to her navel. It’s covered in ebony sequins that shimmer as she walks. A chunky chain hangs between her breasts. Her slender figure allowing her to execute it flawlessly.
“I’m Penelope—Pen. Welcome to Frazer World, Leah. It’s about time someone put those crazy bitches in their place.” Her gaze scowling after the fleeing guests.
Leah coughs to hide her laugh. “Thank you. I think.” Leah says before adding. “I love your boots.”
Pen grins and pulls up the bottom of her dress. It’s my turn to roll my eyes. Only Pen would pair a classic designer dress with biker boots.
“Comfort is key, and I’m tall enough,” Pen says, linking her arm through Leah’s. “And heels are so bloody uncomfortable.”
“Aren’t they just?” Leah nods, accepting Pen’s arm.
Oh, no. These two together could be bad for my health—mental health, that is.
“I can see us becoming firm friends,” Pen adds. “I like Leah, Gabe. You’d better not screw this up.”
“You’ve only just met her,” I point out, but when she glares, I raise both hands in surrender. “I’ll keep that in mind,” I say drolly.
Pen wraps an arm around Leah’s shoulder.
“Did Gabe tell you I taught him to game, when he was a moody, non-communicative teenager?” She laughs, shooting me a grin. I roll my eyes as she continues.
“I went to university with the grumpy bastard and beauty queen over there,” she says, tipping her head in Elijah’s direction. He and Darra having now moved inside. “I came home with him during the holidays, and I’ve been a visitor ever since.”
“You were at university with Elijah?” Leah asks, her brow wrinkling.
Before I can think too much into her response, another voice appears. It truly is the day for it.
“And me...don’t forget me...and you’re like a bad smell, aren’t you Penelope? We just can’t seem to get rid of you.” Darra swans over, a little unsteady on her feet. I reach out to prevent her from ploughing into Leah.
“Don’t start, Darra,” I hiss quietly, taking her arm and pulling her away.
“Start what, Gabriel? Making a scene?” She pulls her arm out of my grip. “I’m his wife, the mother of his child. She’s just —” Darra doesn’t finish her sentence. Instead, she staggers back across the room, whispering something in Elijah’s ear. Something that has him looking across the room at us. His expression hardens. I hear Pen sigh and my heart goes out to her. She and Elijah were best friends. An odd pairing.
Pen shakes her head, her eyes betraying the sadness I know she keeps locked inside. A look passes between us before she returns her attention to Leah, as if the past few minutes never occurred.
“Yes, for my sins. Elijah wasn’t always this way. He used to be fun and lighthearted, more like Caleb.” She pauses before adding with a chuckle, “But less of a tart. Now he’s just?—”
“Who are you calling a tart?” Caleb says, sweeping Penelope up into a bear hug, swinging her around.
“You, dear boy,” she says when her feet finally touch the ground, her hand pressed against the centre of his chest. “How is your love life? Any woman caught your attention for longer than five minutes?”
A look passes over Caleb’s face before he plasters on his usual grin.
