Subject: No Penelope Today. Whatsoever.

The universe has gifted us with another meltdown from the Head Loon at Tinder.

Your lawyer, Andrew Hamilton, wants you to focus on writing one hell of a compelling letter to the judge about why his latest claims against you are bullshit.

After that, I need you to get to work on those damn apology letters so we can take advantage of this timing.

If Penelope calls or texts you, please don’t answer her until you’re finished.

Thank you in advance.

Lawrence.

 

* * *

 

I smiled, immediately disregarding his request.

 

* * *

 

Subject: Fwd: No Penelope Today. Whatsoever.

If you need me, email me at my alternate account.

As you can see, Lawrence doesn’t want me to talk to you today.

Start a new thread and send it to my second phone.

Tell me what you’re up to …

—HH

 

* * *

 

Subject: Simon (Does Lawrence hate me?)

I’m currently waiting for a bird signal from you know who.

He still hasn’t called or texted because he doesn’t have my number. O_o

I’m also watching two new clients bust their ass on the ice. One of them just turned to me and said, “What the hell would you know about completing a double lutz?” UGH.

—Pen

P.S.—I opened your letter list this morning … You honestly want me to help you with all 1000? How the hell have you pissed off this many people???

 

* * *

 

Subject: Re: Simon (Does Lawrence hate Me?)

It’s been five days, Pen.

FIVE. DAYS.

Be patient and do something else with your time. Have you picked out what you’re wearing to his party yet? (He’ll find you sooner or later)

—HH

P.S.—2000* letters. I was a very bad boy when we weren’t talking apparently *smile emoji*

P.S.S—Lawrence does hate you, but he hates everyone else, too.

 

* * *

 

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Simon (Does Lawrence hate me?)

I looked Simon up and found out that he made the Forbes 500 List last year. He’s listed at #301.

Impressive as hell, right?

Tatiana offered to let me borrow one of her designer dresses. (I told you that her mom was a former supermodel, right?)

(It’s midnight, so that means it’s been five and a half days now. The party is in three days!)

—Pen

 

* * *

 

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Simon (Does Lawrence hate me?)

I guess that’s “impressive as hell,” if your best friend wasn’t already listed at #1 …

(He will, Pen. Trust me. Have I ever been wrong?)

—HH

Six (B)

Present Day

Penelope

There was a first time for everything.

Day six.

No call. No email. No trail of magical breadcrumbs that Simon followed to find his way to me.

Utterly impatient, I continued my sleuthing online and found his firm and tons of articles about his hedge fund.

On his website, there was no direct way to contact him if I wanted to. The email addresses listed all went to various assistants, and the phone numbers were 1-800 numbers that made it perfectly clear that they were for “Client Access Only.”

Refreshing my phone screen for the thousandth time, I leaned back against the seat in one of Hayden’s town cars.

“Hey there.” The driver’s eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. “Everything okay, Miss Penelope?”

“I’m fine, Chance,” I said. “Just waiting for something that hasn’t happened yet.”

“Well, whatever it is, I’m sure that you can tell your best friend and he’ll buy it within seconds.”

I forced a smile and refreshed my screen again.

As we rounded the block to my brownstone, my phone rang with an unknown number.

“Simon?” I answered without the slightest bit of grace.

“Who the hell is Simon?” Travis’s voice was on the other line.

Ugh. “No one I’ll ever tell you about.”

“Good.” He laughed. “I don’t want to hear about him until he proposes. This is my new business phone, by the way. Save the number.”

“I’m doing quite fine, Travis,” I said, hating that he had no phone etiquette whatsoever. “Thank you so much for asking. How are you?”

“Great, and good to know that you’re fine. You know I’ve never been good at small talk.”

You’re not good at communication in general. “My birthday is coming up soon.”

“I know that. I already asked Hayden for advice on what to get you.” There was a smile in his voice. “I’ll call you back later this week to spoil it, just in case you want something else. Love you, Crown.”

I laughed. “Love you, too.”

I ended the call and waited for the car to pull the curb before stepping out. Rummaging through my purse for my keys, I overheard a series of honking cars and screams.

“What in the hell?” “Are you serious?” “What the hell are you doing?”

“Hey! Hey! Penelope?”

I turned around and saw Simon rushing across the street in a suit. He was dodging taxis, ignoring the way they were flipping him off.

“I was hoping that was you,” he said, smiling. “I think I’ve tracked down every Penelope Carter in this city.”

I blushed as he moved closer. “You’ve really been trying to track me down?”

“Yeah. Is there a reason you haven’t called?” he asked. “Was I misreading our conversation at the airport?”

“No, I—” I tried to think of a non-Hayden reason. “I lost your napkin in baggage claim.”

“Okay, well …” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to make sure that doesn’t happen again. Can I have your phone number?”

I nodded, reciting it and feeling it buzz against my pocket seconds later.

“I was hoping you’d still be able to come to my party this weekend,” he said. “Is that possible?”

“Yeah.” I nodded. “Where is it?”

“Pier sixty-two. It’s on a super-yacht.”

“You rented one of those for a party?”

“No, I own one of those.” He smiled. “It starts at seven, but people won’t start getting there until eight. Myself included.”

“In college, you were always an hour early.”

“That was before people started asking me for money.” He laughed. “Now I’m purposely late so they don’t get the chance.” He stepped closer. “They’re also a bit more hesitant to get closer if they see that I have a date.”

I blushed again.

“I should’ve asked you out in college,” he said. “I shouldn’t have been subtle back then, and I won’t make the same mistake twice. I’d really love to see you this weekend.”

“I’ll be there.”