34. Penelope
The huge doors to the ballroom are already open when we get downstairs. As we’re the hosts, we really should have been here to greet our guests, but we let Mr. Winslow and Kip’s parents do the honors so we could make an entrance.
Swallowing thickly, I try to dislodge the huge lump in my throat, but my mouth feels too dry, and the worry that’s lodged inside of me makes it almost impossible. Tonight feels like a mistake.
The people waiting beyond the doors are the boys and men on my great-grandfather’s approved husband list and their families. It’s public knowledge that I’m no longer in line to inherit the Rhodes fortune, so the only reason the people who accepted our invite tonight are here is to point and laugh at the girl who was stupid enough to walk away from billions.
My parents are in there too, or at least they RSVP’d to say they were coming. I’m not sure if they’re hoping to watch me embarrass myself, if they’ve come to gloat about humiliating me in the national press, or if they just want to make sure everyone knows they’re not actually dead. But having them here only adds to the mounting pool of dread in my stomach.
When we sent out the invites, we never gave a reason for the ball, we simply said that Penelope and Izabella Rhodes requested the pleasure of their company, and here they all are, waiting for the heir who ruined her life and the spare who no one knew existed to make their grand entrance.
As the six of us pause just outside the entrance, I turn and glance at Hawthorn at my side, then at the others behind me. I inhale sharply when a small, warm hand slides into mine.
“It’s going to be okay,” Izzy says, trying to reassure me. “We’ll go in and do a couple of laps of the room, then we’ll make the announcement that you’re no longer the beneficiary of the will. We’ll make sure everyone sees you and Hawthorn together, then we can go upstairs and order ice cream and brownies.”
Nodding, I squeeze her hand. “Let’s get this over with.”
Izzy stops me as I start to take a step forward and turns to Gulliver at her side. “I think Penelope and I should go in alone first. We need to indisputably let them all see that the two of us are united. Everyone already knows that we’re engaged, so if Penelope and I walk in alone, it’ll be more impactful when Hawthorn comes to her on the stage where everyone can see.”
Gulliver’s brow furrows and his jaw hardens. It’s clear that he hates the idea of Izzy entering this room of hungry vultures waiting to pick at the bones of my reputation alone, but eventually he nods. When I turn and look at Hawthorn, it’s obvious that he’s not any happier about the idea either, but he nods as well, taking a tiny step back and letting Izzy and I take the lead.
Inhaling sharply, I squeeze Izzy’s hand, ready to release it, but she just holds me tighter. Smiling, I take a step forward, and she matches my pace. We glide into the room with our hands joined, our heads held high, and practiced smiles gracing our faces as the first people notice our arrival.
A hushed whisper rolls around the room as hundreds of eyes turn to us. When a waiter appears at my side, I reach out and take a martini from the tray he offers me. The glass is filled with pale-blue liquid, and I lift it to my lips as an identical waiter offers Izzy a silver-colored drink. It’s a little ridiculous that we’ve arranged for the drinks to match our outfits, but when she turns to me and lifts her glass, I do the same, tapping mine against hers in a silent cheers motion before the first group of people approaches us.
“Penelope, sweetheart, you look as beautiful as ever,” Mrs. Appleby says before she looks at Izzy with a genuine smile. “You must be Izabella, it’s lovely to meet you, dear.”
Mrs. Appleby’s son, Henry, appears at her shoulder, not even trying to hide the way he eyes us both appreciatively. “Penelope, it’s a pleasure to see you again,” he says, his eyes lingering on me for a moment before he turns to Izzy. “Izabella, congratulations on your engagement, it’s nice to meet you.”
“It’s nice to meet you too,” Izzy says politely.
“We heard about the inheritance,” Mrs. Appleby says quietly.
“I imagined you had.”
“I don’t care,” Henry says a little more loudly than is polite. “I think you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and I’ve never cared about the money. I would love to get to know you better,” he blurts.
His mother turns and smiles at him before looking back at me. “We think you did the right thing, dear,” she whispers, leaning in to me. “We always thought the will was wrong.”
Izzy’s grip on my hand tightens as my lips part in a silent, shocked gasp. “Thank you,” I eventually say.
“We’ll leave you to greet the rest of your guests,” Mrs. Appleby says with a warm smile.
“I’ll call you,” Henry tells me with a wink before offering his arm to his mom and walking back into the fray.
“What just happened?” I ask my sister.
“You just got asked out.” She laughs.
Before I have a chance to reply, more people approach, and we’re suddenly surrounded. Some people commiserate the loss of the money, and some applaud my decision to walk away from it. Some sneer and some pry; one of my ex-potential suitors even calls me an idiot for losing a fortune, but more people than I would ever expect denounce my great-grandfather’s outdated wishes and commend me for taking a stand.
“I’m sorry, I have no idea which one of you is which,” Geoffrey Bancroft slurs as he leers at us, his eyes swinging from me to Izzy and back again.
Inwardly cringing, I try to force my face into a neutral expression as I take in the man swaying drunkenly in front of me. If my parents had gotten their way, I’d be married to him by now and probably pregnant with his little ginger babies. Geoffrey is fifteen years older than me, with a visible pooch, receding hairline, a desire for very young male prostitutes, and the ability to make me feel dirty just from the way he’s looking at me.
“Geoffrey, how are you?” I ask as politely as I can muster.
Taking one last leering look at Izzy, he turns to me. “Oh yes, you’re the one,” he sneers, sighing audibly. Raising one eyebrow, he looks me up and down, then frowns. “You’re not as interesting when you don’t come with billions.” He laughs, like he said something funny, but then sobers when neither Izzy nor I laugh with him. “I’ll still take you, if the twin comes too, I’m sure we could have some fun,” he offers, his disgusting lips twisting up into a salacious grin.
“Fuck off, Geoffrey,” I hiss, dragging Izzy with me as I turn away from the repulsive asshole. My escape is cut short when I’m greeted by the hate-filled eyes of our parents standing right in front of us.
“Mom, Dad,” Izzy says coolly. “I’m glad you could make it. How was Marrakesh?”
“What is the meaning of all this?” Dad snaps.
“Oh, we thought a party would be fun,” she retorts, a brittle smile plastered on her face. “Don’t you agree?”
“Flaunting your stupidity and begging the families of the sons you should have had your pick of to still consider you. I think that screams of desperation, dear,” Mom says, her narrowed gaze fixed firmly on me.
“I’m not looking for a husband,” I say.
“Thank goodness, with the amount of weight you’ve gained, you’d never find one anyway. Your sister always could eat whatever she wanted and never gain a pound, unlike you.” Her lip curls as she runs her eyes over my dress that’s the exact same size as my sister’s. “Yet another thing she was better at, if only she’d been born first,” Mom sneers.
“Trudy, Barnaby, a pleasure as always,” Gulliver growls, his voice like granite as he appears at Izzy’s side, immediately pulling her into his chest.
“Gulliver, it looks like you picked the right sister after all,” Dad says with a laugh, glancing a look in my direction and scoffing before dismissing me and looking to Gulliver once again.
“Do you have a yacht, Barnaby?” Gulliver asks.
“Of course,” my dad replies.
“Ever thought of sailing the Caribbean? I’ve heard there are a few great spots that yachts sink in all the time over there. Let me recommend a few.” He smiles coldly. “Girls, it’s time.” Turning Izzy away from our parents, he places a hand on my arm and guides us both away.
Marching across the room, we don’t stop till we’re at the side of the stage where a furious-looking Hawthorn is waiting with Kip and Davis.
“What’s the matter?” I ask him.
“Come here,” he orders.
The moment I step close enough, he grabs me, dragging me into his tense body. “You’re mine,” he growls, claiming my lips in a punishing kiss.
The kiss is rough and filled with a possessive energy that pours from him in waves. “Come on, I need every fucking asshole in the room to know you belong to me,” he snarls, pulling away from my mouth and hauling me up the steps as the others silently follow behind us.
One by one, we step out onto the raised platform that’s acting as a stage for the jazz band that’s playing soft background music. Kip moves to the waiting ice bucket and opens the bottle of champagne, quickly filling six glasses and handing one to each of us.
The music slowly ends, and the singer steps out of the way to allow Gulliver to approach the mic. Stepping forward, he lifts a knife and taps it against his glass to garner everyone’s attention. We’ve already discussed how this is going to play out, so the five of us move to our places: Kip on Gulliver’s right, Izzy next to her fiancé, me next to her, Hawthorn on my left, and Davis on his left.
United, a team.
“Ladies and gentlemen, first, we’d like to thank you all for being here tonight,” Gulliver says. “We actually have a few reasons for throwing this little party. As I’m sure you’re all aware by now, I’ve been lucky enough to have met the love of my life, my beautiful fiancée, Izabella,” he says, pulling Izzy into his arms and pressing a soft kiss to her lips.
He pauses when a smattering of polite applause fills the air. “Thank you.” He smiles. “But tonight, we’re here to celebrate the other person Izzy has brought into our lives. Penelope,” he says, gesturing to me.
I smile genuinely and step forward to take my sister’s outstretched hand.
“Penelope has become the sister I never knew I wanted, and so tonight we’re here to celebrate you officially becoming one of us,” he announces happily.
The guys all move in closer, Hawthorn at my elbow, as we allow the crowd of people we invited to see us together. Gulliver steps aside, and I move to the microphone, smiling at the sea of faces in front of the stage.
“I’m so glad you could all be here to help us celebrate,” I say, pausing for a moment. “As I’m sure you’re all aware, when my great-grandfather died, he left his estate solely to me, and that choice forced a wedge between me and my twin sister. Because of that, most of you don’t know Izabella, and tonight is the first time you will have met her. Money and power are wonderful things, but family and friends are equally—if not more—important. I recently made the choice to walk away from my inheritance. I chose my own happiness and that of my sister over money, and I don’t regret a single thing. My sister has found love, and I have been lucky enough to have found a family in Gulliver, Hawthorn, Davis, and Kip.” Turning to my sister and Gulliver, I lift my glass, tipping it toward them. “Izzy, Gulliver, I’m so incredibly happy for you.” Smiling at the crowd, I raise my glass. “To family.”
“To family,” the room echoes.
Stepping back from the microphone, I search out my parents’ angry faces in the crowd and tip my glass to them, smiling wider when they just glower at me. Just like we’d planned, I wait for Hawthorn to wrap his arm around my shoulder to publicly claim me while the others move to the side of the stage, but no one moves except Hawthorn, who steps to the microphone without touching me.
“Tonight is all about family,” he says, tension radiating from him. “I found my brothers in elementary school, Gulliver, Kip, Davis, and I have been inseparable ever since. We’ve grown up together, knowing that we plan to unite our families in a business empire that can only be forged through the bonds of brotherhood. When Gulliver found Izzy, I gained a sister,” he says, smiling at her, before turning his attention back to the crowd. “When her sister joined our group, I got so much more.”
A ripple of apprehension swells inside of me as I wait for whatever he’s going to say next. Glancing at the others, I expect to find them equally panicked, but they all look calm, Davis even winks at me before turning his attention back to Hawthorn.
“Princess, come here,” Hawthorn calls, holding his hand out to me.
Tilting my head to the side in silent question, I step toward him, placing my hand in his and letting him pull me in closer.
“Penelope Emerson Rhodes, you are worth more to me than any amount of money in the world. I love you—every real, imperfect inch of you. You’re mine, and I’m yours in every way,” he says as he drops to one knee in front of me. Still holding my hand tightly, he slides a small, black velvet box from inside his jacket and flips it open to reveal a flawless diamond ring. “I won’t ever let you go, Princess, so will you marry me?”
Inhaling a sharp, shocked gasp, I stare down at him on the floor in front of me, and the rest of the room disappears. All I can see is him, and all I can hear is the pounding of my own heart. “Why?” I whisper, needing to understand.
“Because I stopped falling. I love you, Penelope, and all that matters now is you. Good or bad, bitchy or smiling, all of you is mine, and I just want to be yours, so say you’ll take me. Say yes.”
“Yes,” I gasp, nodding as tears fill my eyes.
His smile is blinding as he stands, slides the beautiful ring onto my finger, then lifts me into the air and kisses me like I’m his everything. Suddenly, the room pulses back into existence, and my ears are filled with the applause of the people around us.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please raise your glasses to the future Mr. and Mrs. Gulliver and Izabella Winslow and the future Mr. and Mrs. Hawthorn and Penelope Benedict. To young love,” Kip says.
“To young love,” the room echoes back.
I should be smug, I should be searching out my parents to gloat in their faces, but right now, no one else but us matters. I don’t care what they think, I don’t care what they do, all that matters is him and the rest of the people on this stage. My new family.
Suddenly getting revenge doesn’t seem that important anymore, because walking away from them was the best thing I ever did. Breaking that will was the best thing I ever did, because it led me to him, and he’s my world.
“I love you,” he whispers against my lips.
“I love you too,” I whisper back.
The rest of the party is a blur, we don’t retreat upstairs to hide, instead, we drink and laugh and dance like no one and nothing else in the universe matters.
I get to meet Hawthorn’s parents in real life as his fiancée, and I’m surprised to find that they’re over the moon for us. Apparently, his father sent Hawthorn his great-grandmother’s engagement ring after the very first time he saw us together on video chat.
His parents are wonderful, sweet, and unassuming people, considering how rich and successful they are. Both his mom and dad’s families are shipping titans, and they met and got engaged around the same age as us.
While we talked with them, his parents tried to convince me that Hawthorn and I should join them and start to travel the moment we finish senior year. When his mom pulled out her cell and started scheduling their jet to take us to meet them in Japan after graduation, Hawthorn pulled me away from them with a laugh.
For hours we dance and kiss and ignore the rest of our guests in favor of each other. “Shall we sneak off?” I ask with a happy smile.
“I don’t ever want to sneak again.” He laughs, scooping me off the ground and into his arms, bridal style. “I’m taking my fiancée to bed,” he announces loudly, eliciting a rumble of laughter and a few catcalls from the people who are still enjoying the free-flowing cocktails and Michelin-starred chef’s food.
Burying my face in his neck, I giggle as he practically runs from the ballroom with me in his arms. When he jolts to an abrupt stop, I lift my head, the smile immediately falling from my face as I see my parents blocking our exit, their angry expressions focusing on us.
“Trudy, Barnaby, if you’ll excuse us, we were just heading up to bed,” Hawthorn says, the barely restrained vitriol in his tone making his words short and stilted, like he’s forcing them through gritted teeth.
“Was all of this just to gloat, or did you think this little stunt would make a difference? You’re a fool, a stupid, na?ve—” Mom starts.
“Trudy, shut the fuck up,” Hawthorn growls. “Who the hell do you think you are to speak to her like that? She’s your daughter, your flesh. What the hell is wrong with you?”
Mom’s mouth curls into a sneer, her lips parting as she moves to speak, but Hawthorn interrupts again.
“Penelope has more class in one of her fingers than you will ever have. She doesn’t need to relinquish who she is, her future, and her choices all for the sake of money, and the moment that will was read, that’s what you should have told her. You should have told your daughter to run from that toxic set of rules, you should have told her that money isn’t everything, especially when you already have more than you’ll ever need. But you didn’t, instead, you brainwashed her, you manipulated her, you starved her, you broke her, and then reformed her into your puppet, all in the pursuit of a fortune that was never going to be yours.” Hawthorn laughs. “I bet you hate seeing her happy, healthy, and loved. I bet it galls you to see her succeed without that money, without you. The pair of you will always be exactly as you are now. The daughter of a man who lost his family’s fortune and the disappointing son of a disappointing son. If either of you were more impressive, successful, and powerful, then you’d have gotten that inheritance. If you were more…worthy, the money, the power, and the control would have been left to you. But you were so insignificant that not only were you overlooked, you were dismissed in favor of a fourteen-year-old girl.”
His laugh is cold and so demeaning that goose bumps pebble along my arms just from the sound. “I bet it killed you to watch Izabella land Gulliver. The redundant spare twin that you chose to ignore and forget landed the white whale. Then, to top that, the puppet you created woke up, she saw who you were and what you were having her do, and she stopped you. She broke the will, and she took all that money from you. Was my name on that list?” he taunts. “I’m a Benedict. We control the seas, does it gall you to see my family’s ring on her finger? To know that under your influence, I’d have given away every penny I had rather than be associated with the Rhodes name, but that without you in her life, I’d do anything to keep her, to give her my name, my family’s influence.”
Carefully lowering me to the floor, he maneuvers me behind him before taking a menacing step toward my alarmingly silent parents. “You had twins, the opportunity to create a dynasty, instead, it’ll be Izabella Winslow and Penelope Benedict who create a legacy, and the Rhodes name will be forgotten, nothing more than a footnote in the society pages.” Scoffing lightly, he shakes his head, then turns to me, offering me his hand.
Placing my palm in his, I smile widely, pushing up onto my toes to press a soft kiss against his lips. “I love you,” I whisper.
At my words, all of his anger dissolves, and he beams at me, the look of love on his face so blindingly obvious that no one, least of all me, could ever doubt it.
“Penelope,” my father hisses, my name a demand on his lips.
I don’t turn immediately, instead, I press another kiss to Hawthorn’s mouth, then slowly sink back down to my heels and glance in his direction. “Yes?”
“Your mother and I want to speak to you,” he says, glancing at Mom, whose lips are pursed together in a very unflattering expression, her skin a grayish tone.
“Why?”
“What?” he asks, like me questioning him is so unheard of he doesn’t even understand the concept.
“I asked you why you wanted to talk to me. You didn’t want to speak to me when you locked up my home and banned me from entering. You didn’t want to speak to me when you both changed your cell numbers. In fact, you haven’t wanted to acknowledge I exist since the moment you tried to force me to rape my sister’s fiancé in the hope I’d get pregnant. Which I wouldn’t have, by the way, because I got a birth control implant fitted years ago. You’ve done nothing but insult and ridicule me, and now you want to talk to me. Well, fuck you,” I cry. “Fuck you both, because I have nothing to say to you. As far as I’m concerned, I’m an orphan. It’s just me and Hawthorn, Izzy, Gulliver, Kip, and Davis from now on. They’re my family, and the sooner I can change my name to Benedict, the better, because using the Rhodes name fills me with shame,” I scream.
I know I’m being too loud, that our guests could have heard everything I’ve just said, but I don’t care. It feels so good to tell them how I feel and to fight back. Turning, I look at my mom, seeing the barely restrained anger simmering just below her seemingly calm exterior. “I asked you once if you considered yourself evil, and you told me I was an idiot. But the truth is, you are evil, Mother, and so am I, because you made me that way. But the difference between us is that I can change, I have a lifetime to be better, but this is who you are.” I gesture to her. “Your best years are gone, and this life you’ve made for yourself is all you have left. Izzy and I are a part of one of the most powerful old money alliances in decades, we could destroy you. But we won’t, we’ll just forget about you, we’ll overlook and ignore you, just the way you did with us. Then, when you’re old and your plastic surgery has sagged, we’ll be powerful and rich and happy.” I pause, eyeing her dismissively. “But don’t worry, Mother, I doubt either of us will ever be fat.” With the condescending smile she helped me perfect, I say, “Thank you both so much for coming, enjoy the rest of your evening.” Then I look to my fiancé and smile, a real smile this time. “Are you ready?”
“More than ready, Mrs. Benedict.” He winks, scooping me up off the floor again and walking away. Neither of us bother to look back, and leaving my parents behind has never felt sweeter.
* * *
“I can’t believe we’re both engaged,” Izzy says the next morning as we sit drinking coffee at the dining table in the huge hotel suite.
“I know,” I say, holding my hand out in front of me and sighing happily as I look down at the beautiful ring on my finger before glancing at where Hawthorn is filling the coffee machine across the room.
“Both of us engaged at eighteen, we’re such a huge old money cliché.” She giggles.
“Aren’t we?” I laugh. “I don’t care though, I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy,” I confess, looking up at her with earnest eyes. “I love him.”
“I can tell,” she says sweetly. “He loves you too. I’m so happy for you guys.”
“Me too.”
“Ten percent,” Kip announces loudly as he emerges from his bedroom, his iPad gripped in his raised hands. “Ten percent, and it’s not even ten in the morning,” he cheers.
“Ten percent of what?” I ask, turning to look at him as he strides across the suite.
“Rhodes Corp., we already secured the shares from Nouman Batrich and Clintmore, and we’re negotiating with Hudson Holdings and Vagnerwarmen,” he says triumphantly.
“Douglas Inc. just agreed to sell too,” Gulliver says as he steps into the room.
“Twelve percent then,” Kip announces.
“Jesus, why are you all being so loud?” Davis groans, staggering from his room, his eyes half shut, his face tinged green.
“Dude, we’ve got twelve percent so far,” Kip shouts, laughing as Davis flinches and grabs at his head with his hands.
“Fourteen,” Hawthorn corrects, appearing at my side, his gaze on his cell. “The Applebys just agreed to sell too.”
“Coffee? I need coffee before I can take any of this in,” Davis groans.
“I’ll get you one,” I offer, pushing up from my chair and making my way to the coffee pot that’s hissing as it fills the jug with fresh, delicious smelling coffee. As soon as it stops, I make myself a fresh cup and fill a cup for Davis. “Anyone else need coffee?” I ask. When they all shake their heads, I grab the two cups and move back to the table, placing one in front of Davis. “There you go.”
His arms shoot out, gripping me, as he hugs my waist. “Thank you, Pen, I think I might be in love with you too,” he groans.
“Keep your hands off my fiancée,” Hawthorn hisses, flicking Davis playfully in the head as he pulls me free of his friend and steers me back to my seat. Davis laughs, then grabs his head and groans, pulling his coffee toward him and bringing it to his lips.
I start to lower myself into my seat, but Hawthorn stops me, sitting down and pulling me into his lap. His arm curls around my waist, and he presses a soft kiss to my shoulder.
Kip opens his mouth to speak, but Davis lifts his hand into the air, silencing him. As he sips his coffee, his eyes slowly blink open wider. Silently, we all look at each other, then to Davis, who eventually drains his cup, lolls back in his seat, and yawns. Lifting his arms above his head, he groans as he stretches.
“Okay, go,” he says groggily.
A small laugh falls from my lips, then another until I’m giggling. “Oh my god, Davis.” I chuckle.
“What? I needed a minute,” he says with a shrug.
“You ready, dude?” Kip asks patronizingly. “You need another minute, maybe some breakfast and a massage?”
“Nah, I’m good, go ahead,” Davis says, completely ignoring Kip’s sarcastic barbs.
Rolling his eyes, Kip lifts his iPad up, tapping the screen to bring it to life. “So far, we’ve got Nouman Batrich, Clintmore, Douglas Inc., and the Applebys. Hudson Holdings and Vagnerwarmen are playing hardball, but the fact that they’re negotiating means we’ll get them too. We’re at fourteen percent so far, and if we can pin Hudson and Vagnerwarmen down to a deal, that’ll take us to twenty-one and a half. Offers will be staggered out to the rest of the shareholders over the next day or so, but it’s looking good so far.”
“My mom and dad want to put an announcement about our engagement in the society pages in the Times,” Hawthorn says, absentmindedly twisting my engagement ring back and forth on my finger.
“We should post on all of our social media too,” Davis says with a yawn.
“I have a photographer coming to our place tomorrow to take some professional pictures,” Izzy says, pulling her cell out and typing a message as she speaks. “I already spoke to Fitzy about sorting some clothes. I figured we could take some group shots of all of us, then engagement photos for you guys.”
“We should probably be prepared for Mom and Dad to lash out in some way,” I admit. “Hawthorn and I had a run-in with them as we were leaving the party last night, it got nasty, so it’s only going to be a matter of time before they retaliate.”
“Princess told them to go fuck themselves,” Hawthorn says, pride lacing every word.
“You did?” Izzy gasps. “No fair, I want to tell them to fuck themselves too,” she pouts.
“You can tell them next time we see them, Little Ghost.” Gulliver chuckles, pulling my sister toward him and pressing an amused kiss to her lips.
“I’m so fucking tired,” Davis whines. “Let’s go home, and we can catch up for dinner.”
Thirty minutes later, I’m sitting beside Hawthorn as he drives us back to The Escape, our home. I thought his parents might be mad that we’re living together at eighteen, but they honestly hadn’t seemed bothered. They even asked us to join them on a trip to Budapest in a couple of days’ time with Hawthorn’s little brother to look at some beachfront property they are thinking about buying. We had to tell them we couldn’t go, so they made us promise to spend some time with them after graduation.
I’m a little intimidated by how nice they are. His mom is sweet. She’s lovely and warm, but even after our brief meeting, I can tell she’s not a pushover. Hawthorn looks like her, while his brother favors his dad. But what became obvious as soon as I met them is that all of the Benedict men carry an air of controlled intensity.
My first reaction was to assume they were playing a game, being kind to me as part of some bigger scheme, but then I remembered that most people aren’t like that. The Rhodeses are always playing some kind of game, manipulating and orchestrating events to play out in their favor, but some people are just good and nice and honest.
Hawthorn doesn’t play with me; he’s never been anything other than unfailingly honest and forthright. He lays out what he thinks and feels. He tells me what he expects from me, but he never manipulates me because he doesn’t need to. He’s my strength, my backbone, my everything, and I have never felt stronger than when he’s next to me.
Yesterday, when he first confronted my parents and called them out on being awful human beings, I’d hidden. But knowing he was there for me, with me, I found the fortitude to stand tall, knowing that without a doubt he’d never let me fall. He’d never let me buckle or cower.
Glancing over at him, a wave of heat washes over me, but it’s not the lust I usually feel when I’m around him, it’s something more. His soft, warm eyes turn to me as he reaches over and places his hand on my thigh, squeezing gently.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
I nod, using my thumb to twist the huge diamond ring weighing heavily on my finger from side to side.
“I’m not going to take it back; I don’t regret it,” he tells me boldly.
“What?” I ask.
“Asking you to marry me. I know I sprung it on you, but I love you, Princess, and I couldn’t wait another minute.”
“No, no,” I rush to say. “I don’t regret it either. I love you, Hawthorn. You make me better. You make me worthy of your love. I don’t regret a single thing about us,” I blurt.
“You’ve always been worthy, you just didn’t know it,” he says, his earnest eyes daring me to believe him. “In a few weeks’ time, we’ll either have destroyed your parents or forgotten them. Either way, we’ll still be us, we’ll still be in love, and we’ll still have the brightest future ahead of us. No matter what happens, we’ve still won.”
“What did I do to deserve you?” I ask, suddenly really needing to know if it was luck, or fate, or just incredibly good timing that brought this man into my life when I needed him so badly.
“You asked.” He laughs. “You barged into my room uninvited, and you asked.”
“That simple?”
“That simple.”
* * *
One month later
“Forty percent,” Kip shouts, his hand held triumphantly above his head as he strolls across the cafeteria toward our table. “Forty percent. The only holdout is Ligada.”
“That’s Geoffrey ’s company.”
Kip nods. “Fucking Bancroft is refusing to even discuss selling, we can’t even get a chance to put an offer to him, and he holds the final nine percent. It’s not the end of the world if we don’t get them, we’re still the biggest majority shareholders except for whoever inherits your great-grandfather’s estate.”
“Should we meet with him and try to sway him in person?” I ask.
“That’d mean revealing that it’s us that wants to buy the shares,” Gulliver says, his voice low and thoughtful.
“We could be blatant and just lay it out for him.” I shrug.
“It could work, but considering he offered you and Izzy a threesome at the party, it stands a chance I might beat the shit out of him before he can agree to sell if he’s a douche again,” Gulliver growls as Hawthorn nods in violent agreement.
“I’ll go and meet with him,” Davis says, leaning back in his seat and lifting his bottle of water to his lips as he shrugs nonchalantly.
“Why?” Izzy asks the question that was already on my lips.
“I’ll flirt a bit, see if I can convince him to sell.”
“Flirt?” I squeak.
“I’m an equal opportunity kind of guy, Pen,” he says with an exaggerated wink.
“Wait, you’re bi?” Izzy asks, her eyes wide with shock while the guys snicker.
Davis shrugs. “I don’t like labels, but if I had to, I’d consider myself pansexual. Like I said, I’m equal opportunity.”
“The guy’s a pig,” I shriek. “You can’t have sex with him.”
“Whoa,” he says, lifting his hands in front of him. “Who said anything about me fucking him? I’ll go and flirt a little, admit it’s me who wants the shares, and see if that makes a difference. I’m not going to fuck that nasty dude.”
A burst of nervous laughter falls from my lips. “Oh, thank God, because we really don’t need those shares enough for you to do that.”
“The annual Rhodes Corp. board meeting is in two weeks’ time, if we can get Bancroft’s shares by then, we can attend the meeting and present our recommendations to the board. If it works, we could have your dad fired and humiliated by the end of the month,” Hawthorn says quietly, his steady gaze locked on me.
Since the party a month ago, I’ve been in a perpetual state of anxiety, waiting for my parents to attack and drop the next bomb, but it’s been unnervingly quiet. Hawthorn and I shared our engagement photos, we had his family join us for some shots, and then we took group pictures of the six of us, then ones with all the guys’ families. The fact that we excluded our parents couldn’t have been a bigger slap in the face, especially as the pictures ran in all the society pages. A New Dynasty is Born was the headline that ran alongside the pictures, with details of both mine and Izzy’s engagements.
Gulliver’s guy is keeping track of our parents, so we know they’re still in Green Acres, but the silence from them feels like the lull before the storm.
“I’ll turn up at his office this afternoon and see what I can do,” Davis says as the bell rings, signaling the end of lunch.
“Dinner at ours tonight, then?” Hawthorn suggests.
Everyone nods their agreement, and we leave the cafeteria and head to our classes. We only have a few months left until the end of senior year, then we’ll leave Green Acres Academy and head to Cornell. Izzy and Gulliver plan to get married in the summer, but even though I know that Hawthorn is my future, my mom’s voice is still chirping in the back of my head, taunting me that this isn’t real, that he’s playing with me, that he couldn’t possibly want me the way he says he does.
Suddenly, the food I just ate turns to ash in my stomach, and bile fills my mouth. If this all turns out to be fake, I have no idea what I’ll do. I’m so invested in him—in this life he’s promised me, in the way he makes me feel. So if it’s all a cruel joke, I know I won’t be strong enough to survive it.
“Princess,” Hawthorn growls, his fingers wrapping around my arm and squeezing. “Penelope, what’s wrong? What the fuck’s going on?”
Shaking my head, I cover my mouth with my hand as tears pool in my eyes. I can hear my mom’s voice so clearly in my mind. Ugly, fat, worthless. I don’t know what triggered this now, but all of a sudden, I’m a mess of insecurity and fear.
“Princess. Penelope,” he says, my name a demand for something that my addled brain doesn’t feel capable of processing.
Suddenly my feet are off the ground, and I’m moving, held tightly in Hawthorn’s embrace as he carries me somewhere. The world around me blurs as unshed tears mar my vision and fear so potent that it blinds all rational thought consumes me.
The slamming of a door cracks the cage of emotion I’ve fallen into, and blinking, I find a furious-looking Hawthorn glaring down at me. “Snap out of it, Penelope, talk to me, tell me what the fuck is happening.”
“I don’t know,” I cry, sinking down to the floor and pulling my knees up to my chest. “I won’t cope, I won’t.”
“Won’t cope with what?” he cries.
His demanding tone calms me enough that I lift my eyes to his and lock my gaze on his face. “If none of this is real,” I whisper.
“What?”
Shaking my head, I bury my face into my knees and hide from him. It’s pathetic and childish, but in this moment, I just can’t be a grown-up, I can’t deal with this guy and my parents and still function.
“Look at me,” he growls, his voice so close I can feel the warmth of his breath as he talks.
Lifting my chin, I look up and find Hawthorn kneeling on the floor in front of me.
“What the hell is going on?”
“I don’t know, I just…”
“Look at me,” he orders.
My eyes lift and my gaze locks with his without thought, and the tumultuous emotions that stare back at me make the breath I’m panting to take catch in my chest. No one has ever looked at me the way he is right this minute.
“You are mine,” he says slowly.
I nod, the movement painful as tears fill my eyes.
“Tell me,” he demands.
“I’m yours,” I whisper, my voice cracking as I speak.
“I know you’ve lived in a world of lies and mistruths, but me, us, this,” he says, pressing his palm to my chest directly over my heart, “is real. There’s never been anything as real as me and you and that huge diamond on your finger. When you doubt it, all you have to do is look down at that gold band, it’s a circle, never-ending. That’s us, Princess, never-ending. I love you, so fucking much, and when you hear that bitch’s voice in your head, you need to remember that. You need to remember that she’s nothing, and we’re everything.” Pausing, he drags me into his lap, holding me tightly to his chest. “We’re everything, Princess, everything.”
“I’m sorry,” I say against his blazer.
“You need to be stronger, every time she makes you question yourself or us, she’s winning, and we can’t let them win. They don’t deserve to win,” he tells me, his voice firm and unyielding as he pinches my chin between his fingers. Lifting my face up, he forces me to look at him, to see his words and the intensity in his eyes. He means this, everything he’s said, he means it, and his eyes assure me that it’s all the truth.
“I hate this,” I confess, slapping at the side of my head. “I hate that she’s in here, that I can hear her.”
“You can’t cower from fear. I know it’s hard, but you have to confront it, just like you did at the party. You told them to go fuck themselves because you’re stronger and better than them. That’s what you have to do now, you just have to remember that you are so fucking strong. Rhodeses are weak, but us Benedicts, we’re the kings and queens of the seas,” he says, smiling.
Sighing, I rest my head against his shoulder. “I’m sorry I’m such a fucking mess.”
“I love your mess.”
“I love you too.”