Page 1 of Possessive Mr. Pen

Chapter 1

Hilary Winthrop

Despite the hatred and adrenalineflooding my veins, I take a second drink off the nearest server’s tray and weave through the crowd of unfortunately familiar faces—Connor Pen, my tyrannical boss of eight years, would fire me on the spot if I ever failed to produce a full spiel on any of the members of elite society—toward the young girl.At only sixteen years old, Destiny Koch, the newest and youngest member of high society eligible to attend this evening’s party, should be out having fun with friends her age, not standing alone in a room with the most disgusting men of New York City.Power hungry and self-serving, no one here—not even the girl’s father—has her best interest at heart.

The sharks circling around her smell fresh blood in the water.My heart pounds in my ears as Eric Beaumonte, a cretin with dozens of buried assault cases, approaches her.

With red wine in one hand and champagne in the other, I trip over nothing, squeak in alarm, and make sure both glasses end up empty.Red wine drips down Mr.Beaumonte’s suit front.He curses and jumps back.

“Oh my god!I’m so sorry!”I step toward him.He jerks away without looking up as he accepts a fancy linen napkin from an alarmed server.“I knew wearing these heels was a mistake,” I gush like an airhead.“But they were custom made in Italy, and I just couldn’t resist.”I tilt my foot and simper.

His eyes latch onto my toes.Disgust worms through me, but I shift my weight and draw his gaze up my leg.

I’d rather walk into a raging fire than ever let him touch me, but every cell in my body demands I protect Ms.Koch.She’s too young.Too small.Too fragile.Putting myself between Ms.Koch and danger is second nature.It’s only right I help.

She may be much closer to adulthood than I was when I saved my sister from my stepfather, but Destiny is still too young to fend off the men around her.She needs someone bigger and stronger to protect her, and I fit the bill.Even flat-footed, at six-foot-one inch, I tower over most men, but with my high heels, there isn’t a single person in the room who doesn’t have to crane their necks to meet my face.

I wouldn’t be able to handle the guilt if I could’ve stopped someone from hurting her but didn’t.

Mr.Beaumonte clears his throat and lifts his eyes from my bosom to my face.His smarmy smile sends shivers of horror down my spine, but I lower my head in fake submission and shift my stance into a sheepish pose.Even though I expect his next words, I cringe in disgust.

“It seems I’m not the only one affected by your… accident,” he says with a pointed glance down at my chest.

My drenched chest.I look down, gasp as though I didn’t realize the chiffon layers were plastered to my curves by champagne, and cross my wrists in front of me.The glasses clink together.A tiny drop splatters on Destiny’s sleeve.

Halfway through my stumbled apology, Mr.Beaumonte smirks and reaches up to rest a hand on my shoulder.Queasiness grips me, but I calm my mind by imagining several dozen violent ways to end his ability to procreate.

“If you’re really that sorry, how about you help me change into something less… dirty?”

His suggestive tone and hungry expression curdle my stomach.When he rubs his thumb over the exposed flesh of my shoulder, I fight the urge to break the digit with a vicious twist.The snap of his joint dislocating would be so satisfying.

“Of course, sir, I’d love to help,” I lie.“I have several suits of the highest quality already on standby for Mr.Pen, and you’re welcome to whichever one you like most.”

His face sours at the mention of my boss.I use the distraction and gently elbow Ms.Koch further behind me.She takes my hint and shuffles closer to my back.Her warmth seeps into me.My heart cries out for her as her trembling transfers from her skirts to mine.

As a server offers me a stack of napkins on a tray, I use the act of placing the glasses down to dislodge Mr.Beaumonte’s grimy hand off my shoulder before bunching the napkins against my chest.

He reaches for me again.I dodge and knock into Destiny.After turning and apologizing to her, I gasp in feigned dismay.

“Oh no, Ms.Koch.Your sleeve!”

She glances down.Confusion, panic, and uncertainty flash across her features before understanding dawns.She lifts her chin, meets my gaze, and scowls.

“You ruined my dress!Just wait until I tell my dad—”

“I have extra dresses, too.Several from the same designer as the one you’re wearing now.”I give the server a pointed look, tilt my head toward Mr.Beaumonte, and silently rejoice when he nods in understanding and turns to offer the socialite assistance.“Please, Ms.Koch, let me take you to change before your father notices,” I mock beg.

When relief shines in her eyes despite her act of begrudging agreement, I cup her elbow and guide her toward the hall.Despite the sticky mess on my front, I relax my shoulders and breathe a sigh of relief when we slip through the double doors without catching anyone’s attention.Mr.Beaumonte’s disgruntled stare burns into my back, but I ignore him and rush Destiny around the corner.

I try not to notice how my head towers at least two feet above her, but I feel like an awkward, lumbering giant next to her petite frame.

As I lead her through the maze of halls to the suite I booked for my bosshole—because god forbid Connor Pen settle a deal without his every demand met—in case negotiations run long, Destiny stops, digs in her heels, and tugs me toward a side hall.I follow without resistance.

“I don’t really need to change my dress,” she says.“My sleeve is already dry and it didn’t stain and if—”

I put my hand over hers on my arm.

“It’s okay, Destiny,” her eyes widen as I say her name, “you don’t have to change if you don’t want to.We can take a break in my suite if you need a few minutes.I have snacks and—”