Page 31 of Possessive Mr. Pen

My usual mask doesn’t fit.I can’t force a fake smile onto my face.I sigh and pull on my nicest blazer and skirt set before tossing my work bag, purse, and high heels onto the bed.After locking my wardrobe and stretching my feet, I fit the shoes onto my feet and buckle the straps around my ankles.I cram my purse into my bag and sigh.

I forgot to lock my new charger into my wardrobe, but whatever.Momo can have it.I’ll buy another.

I’d prefer to deal with her kleptomania rather than her anorexia.

My stomach sours as I replay my caustic thoughts.It’s wrong for me to think about her like that.She’d never trust me again if she knew I was so mean.

I refuse to acknowledge the resentment lurking in my soul.She never asked me to bear her burdens.It’s not her fault she needs so much help.It’s none of their faults they can’t reciprocate.They’ve never had to take care of anyone but themselves.I put myself in this position.I have no right to feel so lonely.

I stand and hook my bag over my forearm.

The room spins.

I rub my forehead.Although I choked down the energy bars and extra waters stashed in my work bag and at the top of my wardrobe, I haven’t eaten a full meal since my trip to the museum with Destiny.

I unlock my door and pull it open only to freeze with my foot in the air.

Three grocery bags full of snacks and drinks sit in front of my door.Guilt gnaws at my insides as I recall Aisha knocking to let me know about them.I completely forgot.

With a groan, I bend down, pick them up, and carry them to the kitchen counter.

Trash covers nearly every surface of the living room and dining table.Most are from stores I don’t frequent because they’re too expensive.With suspicion growing in my bones, I open the fridge.I slam it closed and try the freezer next.Another slam.The cabinets are full, too.

Every last ounce of hurt pulsing through me switches to red-hot hatred.

Only one person would dare bribe my sisters like this.

Connor Pen thinks he can manipulate his way into my good graces through my sisters.

I’ll kill him.

I slam the apartment door behind me and stomp down the hall to the elevator.All through my commute, I seethe.Those forced to stand near me keep as much distance as the crowd allows.Any eyes I meet turn away wide and frightened.

No one questions me when I roll through security without my normal greetings, although I’m sure they’ll whisper behind their hands about my rudeness.Or maybe they all understand since I work directly under our bosshole.

I step off the elevator and stride down the hall with my attention trained on the CEO’s office.

The receptionist hails me before I make it halfway down the hall.

“Ms.Winthrop, Mr.Pen is waiting for you in conference room D,” she says.

I take a deep breath, unlock my jaw, and thank her with as much kindness as I can muster before changing direction.

Conference room D is a smaller, simpler meeting room than the three large, flashy executive conference rooms, but it’s more public than Mr.Pen’s office, so I don’t balk at the redirection.

When I burst through the door without knocking, he stands and dismisses the three men sitting opposite him.They shake hands.I can’t force myself to care who they are.All I want is to slug the smug bastard in his unfortunately handsome mug.

“Good morning, Ms.Winthrop.Please, have a seat.”

With leashed fury in every movement, I settle in the chair across from him.

“You called my sister,” I accuse without preamble.

He leans back in his chair.

“I spoke with your emergency contact, yes,” he responds.

The unapologetic calm in his voice nearly breaks my composure.