Page 2 of Possessive Mr. Pen

Fresh panic twists her delicate features.

“No!No, my father will lose his mind if he realizes I’m gone.”

Skepticism jangles through me, but I lean my weight onto my heels and use the pinch of my shoes to hold my tongue.I doubt her father will even think twice if she’s gone all evening.In fact, he probably already has a deal in place with her as the bargaining chip.

“Don’t leave his side again tonight,” I demand.“Or any night in the future, especially at big events like this.Not foranyreason.It’s not safe for you to be alone.Understand?”

Her lower lip trembles as she nods.I squeeze the back of her hand and step back, but she dives forward and wraps her arms around me.My body moves on instinct.I return her hug and pat her back.

“Your dress is going to get sticky,” I murmur when her trembling no longer shakes us both.

With our height difference, my drenched breasts sit at the level of her face, so her dress isn’t in jeopardy, but I say the words in hopes of lightening the mood.She surprises me with her quiet yet adamant response.

“I don’t care.You saved me.”She squeezes me harder and takes a deep breath.“Can I come to you if I’m in danger again?”she whispers.

“Of course.Just find my head above the crowd and call out.I’ll come running as fast as I can,” I promise.

She takes another deep breath and pulls away.With impressive control for a teen, she gathers her composure and rolls her shoulders back before craning her neck to meet my eyes.

“Thank you, Mrs.…”

I chuckle and shake my head.

“I’m not married, but you can call me Ms.Winthrop, or Hilary, if you like.”

“Oh!You’re so pretty and poised and… I thought… I’m sorry.It’s nice to meet you, Ms.Winthrop… actually, that sounds too stuffy, but I feel rude calling you by your first name, and my mother said—”

“Don’t overthink it, honey.If you need—”

“Will you be my friend?”

I pause at her unexpected request.

“You don’t have to, like, actually hang out with me or anything, but if I say you’re my friend, then I won’t feel so weird calling you by your first name,” she explains.

Understanding flows through me.I chuckle and pat her shoulder.

“Then we’re definitely friends, but I don’t do anything halfway.”I reach into the pocket hidden in the waistline of my dress and pull out a business card.“Call or text anytime,” I say.

She takes the card.Her eyes widen.

“You’re a personal assistant?I thought… wait, I mean no offense, there’s nothing wrong with being a personal assistant, you’re just so gorgeous and elegant, I thought you were…”

“A trophy wife?Or maybe a mistress?”I supply.

Color floods her cheeks.

“I’m sorry!Those shoes and your dress and makeup and—”

I squeeze her shoulder.

“You’re fine, Destiny.I’m not offended.It’s a logical assumption.”I cringe at the words—they sound too much like my heartless boss—but I push the thought aside and focus on the half-panicked teen.“In a way, you’re flattering me.I’m undercover for my boss tonight.I’m supposed to look like arm candy so I can catch up on all the gossip.”

“Arm candy?You’re an entire ten-floor candy shop,” she blurts.

For a moment, ice congeals my insides as past voices echo in my mind, but then her appreciative tone and awed gaze break through my spiral.

She freezes halfway through her once-over and pins terrified eyes on my face.