CHAPTER TWO
PENELOPE
“NO. TELL THEM IF THEY want accreditation from us, then they need to be audited.” I tell my farm manager. “What don’t they understand about certification?”
Jesus.
“They say they meet the government standards and that should be good enough.” Tucker shrugs.
I roll my eyes and adjust my laptop monitor. The glare from the floor to ceiling windows behind me is bad today. If I just pulled my blinds...but I’m too busy to even stand up and do that.
Stupid busy, I call it.
Running a non-profit organization is not for the fainthearted. We don’t have the budgets that corporations do which would allow us to hire a full team. So, we all work ten times harder.
I might be the CEO, but that doesn’t mean I do less work. Quite the opposite.
Then there’re all the networking and events to make sure we get donations from key wealthy individuals and keep the door open to opportunities.
People do business with people, as my father once taught me.
He was right.
I don’t think he ever expected me to end up working for a non-profit, but it’s what my heart wants to do.
I’m fortunate to be able to choose it. I have a trust fund that allows me to make decisions other people may not be able to.
“Well, it’s not enough, Tucker. Consumers want to know their animals have been farmed humanely. That’s what the blue heart logo we provide them with for their packaging means. No audit. No logo.”
I feel like a stuck record.
“So tell them?” Tucker asks, scratching the back of his head.
Oh, my god.
Tucker is new, so I know he’s just looking for direction, but I am so busy and my patience is thin.
“Yes. No. One of my team members will. But in the future, if someone stops you going on a farm, tell them they either get audited or they don’t. The end.”
“Got it. Okay.” Tucker nods, and when my marketing manager joins us, I let out a sigh of relief.
She understands how it works.
“Jenny, can you please give the owners at CluckaDale Farms a call? They refused to let Tucker on the farm today to be audited.”
She frowns. “They have to.”
I know!
I nod and stare at the email I’m trying to write. We’re lobbying the government for better conditions for farm animals—like many charities around the world are constantly doing—and I have to get this in by tomorrow.
I glance up when no one says anything, lifting my brow in question.
“Why do they even want accreditation if they don’t understand they need to be audited?” Jenny asks.
I need her to take the lead on this.
I’m clearly not the person to ask. The farmers are.
Please go and do your jobs, people.
“Exactly.” I nod, tired. “Tucker went all the way out there today, only to be turned away. Please find out who originally spoke to them and make sure that our onboarding process is tighter.”
As in, there should’ve been no discussion because the expectations were made clear in the first place.
“Recommend you get payment first,” Tucker helpfully says. “I can’t not charge you. As much as I’d like to.”
All our auditors are contractors. Which means the longer he stands here, the more hours he’s going to put on our invoice.
I get it.
But I need to make sure this never happens again.
“Thanks, Tucker. We’ll call you when we have another audit to be booked. Jenny, can you please call the farm and sort this out?”
Part of me wants to tell CluckaDale to take a flying leap, but we do this to help the animals.
They have both layer hens and poultry chickens on their farm, and while I know their animal welfare is pretty good, there are changes that will need to be done to meet our standards—high welfare standards.
It’s likely why they don’t want to be audited.
The cost of farming is hurting everyone.
But this is about quality of life for the animals and something I am very passionate about.
Once they meet the standards, which are basically a list of things like making sure the animals have enough water, food, shelter, and other things pertinent to that species, they can put our charity’s blue heart logo on their packaging.
Then consumers can see it when they buy their eggs, chicken, meat, and other produce in the supermarket. Our marketing efforts educate them on what it means. That the logo indicates our auditors have been on the farm and approved them.
The animals lived a happy life.
No audit. No logo.
CluckaDale knows this, and it sounds like they’re just trying to skirt the process.
No way.
“See you next time, Penelope,” Tucker says, wandering off.
I lean back in my chair.
“He’s right. We should bill them first. I’ll find out who booked it,” Jenny says, rubbing her fingers along her chin. “The website is very clear.”
“Tighten the process,” I say, then push away from the desk and unplug my laptop from all the cords.
I’m not going to be able to focus today.
Tonight, I’m attending a networking event and Ward Montgomery is going to be there. The man I spent a scorching night with a few months ago.
He’s so emotionally unavailable I should’ve lost interest by now. Yet, every time I hear his name or speak to him, my body lights up like a Christmas tree.
The things he did to me... my god.
He might be eight years older than my forty-one years, but his body sure doesn’t show it. Ward has one of those powerful jawlines, well-defined abs, and towers over me with wide, confident shoulders.
This isn’t the first time we’ve seen each other since, and it won’t be the last. We dance around each other, his brooding stares burning me from across the room, his deep whisky-sounding voice sending shivers through me when he’s nearby.
I shudder now in anticipation.
“I’m going to work from home, then head to the event from there,” I tell Jenny.
“Okay, have fun. I’ll sort out the CluckaDales.” She disappears and leaves me to my thoughts.
I don’t know why I can’t move on from the sexy billionaire. Well, apart from the fact I’ve never orgasmed so hard in my life.
Do I want another night with him?
When I learned that his wife had died years before, it explained why he ghosted me after our night together. If that makes me sound clingy, I make no apologies. I’m not a one-night type of woman.
When we met, there was immediate chemistry, and our conversation cemented it. Ward is charming and intelligent.
When he asked me to leave with him, it was not a hard decision.
We went to my place, and I thought he made that choice for my comfort.
If we’d both been younger, I might have considered he was a man after a quick fuck, but Ward Montgomery is a charming, successful, and respected man in our society.
I never once thought he would take what he wanted, then I would never hear from him again.
I wasn’t left wanting, not at all. He thoroughly pleasured every inch of my body. Even my toes were buzzing for days.
That man and his mouth...
So, while I waited to hear from him and slowly realized my mistake, I was filled with a range of emotions. Shame for being so stupid. Disappointment because Ward is an incredible man, and I’d been so attracted to him. Anger at him for not being more honest about his intentions. Last, I was annoyed with myself for being na?ve.
Apparently, I didn’t learn my lesson.
Ward got my number and called me a month ago.
“Penelope.” The timbre of his voice and surprise at hearing from him had almost made me drop the phone.
“Hi,” I’d replied. While I waited for him to speak again, I’d bitten my lip. The silence had felt heavy and thick with opportunity and questions.
“Believe it or not, I used to be quite charming.” I’d heard the smile in his deep voice.
I wanted to tell him he was. That he’d taken my breath away with his beautiful, steely blue eyes and intoxicating presence. How his large hand had led me where he wanted me—in and out of the bedroom—and I shivered even now at the thought of his heavy roped cock.
“I don’t need to be charmed, Ward,” I’d whispered.
But I did need more of what he had done to me. Much more. More orgasms, more of his mouth and more access to his powerful body so I could run my hands over his hard edges.
“What is it that you want, Penelope?” he asked.
Perhaps I should have launched into a speech about how I’d not heard from him in months after our night together and calling me for a booty call was out of order.
How I was looking for a meaningful relationship. That in hindsight, we weren’t suited. He’d had his children. I wanted a baby and while at my age, it was unlikely, it wasn’t impossible.
With a man who also wanted the same thing.
I didn’t have to ask Ward if he did. He had four children, grandchildren, and was a widower.
I was the one with expectations that were unreasonable.
So, perhaps that’s why I answered with, “You know exactly what I want.”
Ward was silent for a long moment while I’d pressed my eyes closed and cursed under my breath.
“I don’t know the rules of the game anymore. I was married...”
“I know.” I didn’t want to hear it.
“You have my number,” Ward replied, then after another moment of silence, he added, “I really enjoyed our time together.”
Click.
I dropped the phone from my ear and stood staring at my Christmas tree.
I enjoyed our fucking time together?
Was he serious? I’d almost handed myself to him on a silver platter and he’d hung up!
What did he call for? To leave a goddamn review?
Five stars. Enjoyed our time together.
Ugh.
Since then, I’d been so mad and cursed his name every time I removed my dildo from my drawer, thinking about him as I came.
Days later, on New Year's Eve, I met another man. James. He’s closer in age to me, with no children, and there’s no questioning his interest.
We kissed.
I enjoyed it, but it didn’t create the same kind of fireworks I shared with Ward. Still, I went on a few more dates with James, and then it seemed to fizzle out.
It was the night of the Super Bowl when I knew for sure James wasn’t the man for me. I’d been at my brother’s house. Every year I’d join Eric and his friends, drink horrible beer, and watch the game.
I might work for a charity, but I come from a wealthy family. Which means I have the luxury of a car and driver when I want. Hence, I drank way too much beer that night.
And accidentally rang Ward.
Accident. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
“Penelope,” Ward answered in a purr.
I could hear he had the game on in the background and was with other people, then suddenly felt stupid. I hadn’t planned what I was going to say or thought about why I was ringing. I just wanted to hear his sexy voice.
Perhaps it was all the testosterone in the room and on the TV.
“I don’t know why I’m ringing.”
“Yes, you do,” Ward replied in his deep husky voice. My toes curled as the background noise grew quieter.
“Where are you?” Ward asked.
“My brother’s. Watching the game.” I hiccuped. “Oh god. I’m not that drunk. Just a little bit. Enough that we can pretend tomorrow, I didn’t call you.”
“I’m not going to forget.” He rasped.
My panties moistened, and I whacked my palm on my head. This was such a bad idea.
“Ugh, why is your voice so sexy?”
Trust me, I’ve had nightmares about speaking those words ever since.
Ward chuckled roughly like you’d imagine a mountain man would while I stared up at the ceiling, wishing I wasn’t in my brother’s bathroom with soaked panties.
“I know it’s not going to happen again, but I wanted to tell you it was the single most orgasmic night of my life.”
Stop talking.
“Penelope. Christ. I enjoyed every damn minute,” Ward told me, and I could hear the frustration in his voice. “ Really fucking enjoyed it.”
Stupid beer made me keep talking.
“The way you parted my thighs and licked me, Ward. No man has ever made me come so fast.”
Oh, my god.
In the days following, I’ve woken up at least three times with heart palpitations, replaying that moment over and over and goddamn over.
His groan filled the phone. “Fuck. If my mouth was on you right now, you’d be shuddering and dripping.”
Fortunately, I wasn’t drunk enough to keep the conversation going. I wasn’t about to have phone sex with my brother down the hallway, and my fingers were getting really close to slipping inside my jeans.
No damn way.
“Shit. I can’t do this here. If the guys hear—”
Another deep growl sounded in my ear. “What guys?”
“My brother’s friends.”
He’d growled again.
“Ward, I’m going home. Come over. I need this. I need you to touch me.”
“Go home now.”
The phone had gone dead, and I’d said my goodbyes, racing home.
I swear the adrenaline had helped sober me up. I changed into something sexy and brushed my teeth.
Then waited.
And waited.
Ward never showed up.
He never messaged. He never called. He simply ghosted me.
Again.
I will never let a man do that to me again.
It’s been two weeks. Tonight will be the first time we see each other since Ward stood me up.
I don’t plan to play fair.
I’m going to wear the dress. The dress every woman owns. The one that’s going to make him wish he never said no to me.
Silently or otherwise.
Then I’m going to return the favor.