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“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “I didn’t think you’d want to see me again.”
Penelope flicks her eyes up to mine, icy blue and vulnerable. My chest aches. Every thump of my heart feels like it’s cracking ribs, so I look away. I grab my glass and the bottle of whiskey, moving around the desk and sinking into the chair next to hers. I fill up both our glasses, my fingers brushing Penelope’s as I hand her the tumbler. My skin sizzles at the contact, heat rushing up my arm.
She takes a sip, wrinkling her nose. “My earlier comment stands.”
“I didn’t know you were a whiskey connoisseur.”
“You don’t know anything about me.” Her eyes stare out through the window behind my desk, and my heart does that painful twist again.
I stare at her profile from my seat next to hers, unable to look away from her neck, her jaw, those perfect lips I haven’t stopped thinking about since I kissed them. Before I can stop my hand, my fingers are drifting over her cheek. Her perfect, smooth skin. Unmarked. Unscarred.
Her scars are hidden.
Penelope doesn’t flinch away from my touch. She closes her eyes, letting my fingers drift down her cheek and over her jaw. Her skin feels like warm satin. I never want to stop touching her. I’d run my hands over her body for hours at a time, just to prove to myself she’s real. She exists. This beautiful creation is alive, and she’s doing me the honor of letting me caress her skin. “I wanted to see you again, Pen. I was curious when you said you were talking to mining executives, so I pitched the trip to my father as a business trip.” That’s…mostly true, right? Penelope hasn’t mentioned Donovan—does she know about the merger? I pause, trying to find the right words. “What I really wanted was to see you.”
It’s not a lie, exactly. But it’s not the full truth. My motivations weren’t altruistic. I came here to find out more about Reginald Donovan, to make sure I can cut his legs off at the knee and ensure this merger goes through. But is that the main reason? What really pushed me to come here? Without even having to ask myself the questions, I already know the answer. I stare at the beautiful woman next to me, letting out a sigh. “I was hoping I’d see you here.”
Penelope turns to look at me, ice-blue meeting my gaze. She searches my face. Her brows tug together and the faintest line appears on her forehead. “Why wouldn’t you just call me?”
“You’re not exactly easy to get ahold of. Do I just call up information and ask to be connected to the Queen?”
“At least you’d be making an effort.”
I grin. “I’d give my left arm to have you storm into my office like this every day.”
“Shut up, Asher. Why would you tell me you had no time to come to Nord if you were planning on setting up an office here?” Her voice is thin and reedy, and I know she’s showing a side of her that usually stays hidden. I’m…honored, but…
Still no mention of Donovan. No talk of the merger. My heart thumps as I clear my throat, staring at the wood grain on my desk. The truth sings in my veins—she doesn’t know. Doesn’t know about the merger. Doesn’t know why my father really sent me here.
I know I’m hiding something from her. Maybe you would call it lying. Hell, who am I kidding? It’s a lie. I should tell her about the merger, about Donovan, about everything.
Penelope hasn’t so much as mentioned Donovan’s name—her main complaint is the fact that I didn’t tell her I was planning on coming here. But if I tell her about the merger with Donovan Enterprises, will she still believe that I came here in the hopes of seeing her, too? Or will she feel angry and used?
Swinging my eyes to stare at Penelope, there’s a tightening in my chest. A deep kind of pain at the thought of losing her again, letting her walk away from me. So, I tell her what I really want—the thing that might be truer than any merger or business deal. “I wanted to see you, Pen. That’s why I’m here.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
“I’ve heard stories about you,” she says, arching a brow.
“All good, I hope.”
Penelope lets out a dry, humorless laugh.
I bring my glass to my lips. “Do you regret what happened at the wedding?”
She pauses for…a long time. Too long. Then she whispers, “Yes.”
I wasn’t expecting that to hurt so much. My chest feels like it’s caving in, my heart squeezing into a tight ball. I nod. “Oh.”
“I don’t like feeling like this. Out of control.” She takes a sip of her whiskey. I’m so incredibly fascinated by the movement of her lips, her jaw, her throat.
“You’re completely in control, Pen.”
“What did I say about calling me that?”
My lips curl. I shrug. “Can’t help myself.” I laugh, and her eyes brighten. She stares at me, at my mouth, then back at my eyes. I let out a long sigh. “Can I see you again?”
