Chapter Four
Penelope
Having Neal around for the past few days had been surprisingly simple. His physical therapist came to the penthouse, and often I’d see Neal wandering around the house talking to him. Max was over less often, but I’d insisted upon meals being prepped for the both of them, and while Max been awkward during the conversation, I knew they were eating them.
But unlike Max, Neal didn’t join us at the table. Which was fine. He was here to heal; I didn’t think he was looking for a new best friend. But tonight, when I got in, I toed out of my heels before padding around the kitchen, surprised when I realized I wasn’t alone.
Neal stood there, a statue in the shadows, his body so much larger now that he was getting healthier. “Neal, I didn’t see you there. How are you feeling?”
“I’m good,” he said stiffly, and immediately I regretted asking him. I was sure he was asked that hundred times a day right now. How predictable. Biting my lip, I moved towards him. “Church is taking Madeline to a school event and—”
“I won’t hurt you, Penelope…” His deep voice filled the kitchen, making something in my belly draw up tight.
I cocked my head at his rushed response. “I didn’t think you would. I was simply going to ask you if you wanted to join me for dinner. The pickings are a little low right now, but I think there's enough leftover chicken Parmesan for two.”
He blinked, those nearly black eyes cautious. “You want to eat with me?”
“That’s what I said.” I offered a smile, taking note of the handsome strong features that I could see even under the rough cut of his beard and too-long hair. My fingers twitched. I’d stroked those curls at one point when he’d been asleep here but restless. It’d been natural, but now, standing here, I was compelled to do it again. To soothe the bright emotions that looked back at me.
After a long, tense moment, his shoulders dropped, and he moved into the room. “I’d like that.”
I shot him a quick smile before getting another plate from the cabinet and setting it on the table. Neal moved past the table to the fridge and opening it. I studied him as he leaned over, large hands reaching into the side and gripping the carefully labeled containers. He was almost as tall as Adrian, but he was built more boldly. Now that he was up, eating well, and healing, thick, powerful-looking shoulders were visible and a broad chest was filling in. That paired with those sharp eyes and careful hands showed that he was a man who was used to knowing what he wanted and how to get it.
I was desperate to know how he ended up on the streets, but that wasn’t my business. At least not right now. And while I was sure I could have the family private investigator have the answer on my desk in less than an hour, it felt like an invasion of his privacy. Maybe I didn’t know him well, but I'd spent time with this man, even as he slept. And I’d seen the look in his eye when he came to rescue me.
There was just something about him. My cheeks flushed when I realized that he’d turned back from the refrigerator and was returning my look with one of his own, his dark eyes coasting over my curves and making me feel very much like I was indecently dressed, rather than sitting in my favorite pencil skirt and turtleneck.
Heat coiled in my belly. I may spend my days in the boardroom or my office, combating men on a daily basis, but I didn’t really date. Especially not men like him, with that subtle masculine confidence that made me so nervous around him.
My thighs quivered a little as I reached out, taking the containers from him and moving to the microwave. I turned my back on him and hoped he couldn't see the flush in my cheeks. I pressed the buttons with shaky hands, stilling as I felt the soft heat of another human against my back.
He was so close.
My entire body clenched. Was he going to touch me? Hurt me? What would he do? Gently, as if afraid to touch me, his fingertips brushed over the neat bun I’d tucked my hair into at the back of my head. I wasn’t sure I was breathing at this point.
Slowly, his arm reached over me, holding out a single white petal, his fingers cradling it as he showed it to me. I was twisted now, pinned between the heat of his body and the harsh edge of my countertops. “It was”—his voice lowered—“caught in your hair.”
“Oh.” I blushed. “I keep flowers on my desk, I must’ve picked it up.”
His lips quivered, the smallest bit, but as his mouth opened to respond, the microwave beeped loudly. His eyes widened and he immediately cleared his throat and stepped back from me. I snapped my head around, focusing on taking the food out of the microwave without burning the heck out of my fingers or dropping it out of sheer unsettled nerves.
I had enjoyed his warmth. Paired with the soft rumble of his voice, it was quickly making me lightheaded. I swallowed, almost embarrassed at my body’s reaction to him. I was a boss; I did not swoon.
Yet, I missed the way his body had curled around mine, completely encompassing me. I was always in control, always in charge…but around him, it was as if he completely disarmed me, taking away my need to run things. It was a relief and a fascination that I couldn’t leave alone.
Keeping my eyes on the platter, I moved to the table, where Neal now stood, his face back to that stoic, serious look he always wore. After I portioned out our food, I jumped in surprise when Neal reached out and pulled my chair out for me.
“Thank you,” I whispered, dropping into my seat.
Neal followed suit, picking up his utensils and cutting into the chicken with polite enthusiasm. I joined him, happy that the chicken was still delicious.
I was chewing the first bite, moaning a little at the salty sweet red sauce.
“Did you manage to figure out who attacked you that day?”
I coughed a little, and Neal’s lips pressed into a thin line.
I raised my bows after dabbing at the corner of my lips with my napkin. “Wow, you get straight to the point, don’t you?”
Neal shrugged, settling back in the chair/ “You strike me as someone who's worn through her small talk by this point in the day.”
A startled laugh fell from my lips. “You know what? You’re right about that. And no, we know what they were after, but by the time the police got there, they had fled. Church and I decided that it was more important to get you to the hospital than to continue watching them.”
Neal nodded. “I apologize for that.”
“For passing out after a gunshot? Don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you.”
Neal grunted, which I took to be his version of a laugh. “What did your man tell you about me?”
I surveyed him closely. “First off, Church is head of our security but primarily is a driver. Secondly, he’s not my man. Not even close. And he only told me what I needed to know. You were married once, your wife died five years ago, and you basically disappeared from modern civilization. Before that you were running your own construction company. No warrants, no felonies. Just a man who stepped in and did the right thing.”
“I’m not a good man.”
“No offense meant, Mr. Crowe, but I believe that's up to me to decide. After all, you did save me.”
His body seemed to grow larger under my stare. “Be careful, darling, because there’s more to me than meets the eye.”
I met his stare head on, my body tingling. “Oh, I’m counting on it.”
A door crashed open and closed, and Madeline came sulking into the kitchen, Church close behind.
“What happened, baby?” I could see the obvious disappointment in her expression as she crawled onto the counters and picked at her chipped pink polish. Church gave a short nod, his expression obviously sharing disappointment with his charge, and headed to the back door. I knew he was expected home, and neither of us made a big deal about it.
“There weren't enough people, so we had to cancel.”
My heart ached a little for her. She has spent so much of her life on camera that when the option to perform in a local theater group’s spring play had come up, my daughter had jumped on it. I was so proud of her for trying, which meant her disappointment was a vise in my throat. “I’m sorry, Madeline. Maybe the director will be able to find something similar for you to do?”
“I really wanted this one.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” An idea popped into my mind, and I quickly held up a finger to keep her where she was and ducked out of the room and into my bedroom. “I have something for you.” I snagged the tickets out of my bag and hurried back down the hallway to the dining room.
“What are these?”
I flourished them in front of her. “Floor seats for Kelsey Torrey, next week.”
Her jaw dropped. “You’re kidding.”
“I’m not. One of the other directors got them as a gift from a vendor and sent them over, knowing you would love them.”
Madeline squealed, grabbing the tickets and flapping them in the air as she danced around me. I pressed a hand over my mouth, laughing at the beauty of her joy.
“Mom, you are the best. Thank you so much.”
“Not me. You owe Sam in Human Resources a thank-you note. Or at least an email.”
“Of course. I can do that.” Madeline squealed, pulling out her phone to take a selfie with the tickets before disappearing back down the hall to her room. “I’ll be ready to go to Adrian’s in just a minute. I have got to tell the girls first!”
And then she was gone, the room slowly quieting until it was just Neal and me. I smiled faintly as I looked over, noting Neal once again watching me.
“What?”
“You’re a good mom,” Neal said simply, his deep voice making the praise even more enjoyable as it settled on my flesh.
“She makes it easy. So does Sam from HR.”
Neal cocked his head sideways, and I could see him thinking things over.
“Did you have any kids?” I asked curiously.
“I did not.” I thought he might leave it at that, but then he continued. “I always wanted a kid or two, maybe more. But my wife, she wasn’t interested after all.”
“That sounds difficult.”
Neal stood, tension reentering the room like a wave. “I’ve survived worse.”
I gave him a half smile, starting to collect the plates and platter from our dinner.
“I’ll get it. Thank you for dinner, Ms. Dougherty.” With quick, efficient movements, he cleared the table, leaving only his plate between us.
I raised a brow at him, pushing back to leave the table. “You’re welcome, and please, call me Penny.”
Neal stepped up, his body only inches from mine. That soft, protective warmth that he carried with him… I breathed it in, my heart rate a scattered mess.
“Good night, Penny.” Bold eyes roamed over me before he set his plate into the sink with a soft clank.
I felt his warmth leave the kitchen, his goodbye a whisper against my skin that made me shiver.
“Good night,” I echoed, taking a deep breath and trying to remember why getting involved with my very large, very mysterious rescuer was a bad idea. Because suddenly it didn’t seem like such a bad idea after all.
The ringing went on and on. I cracked my eyes open as I reached for my nightstand. The clock there glowed back at me. It was barely five in the morning. With a groan, I swiped at the number, answering the call.
“What’s going on?”
“I’m sorry to wake you, boss, but we need to talk.”
I bolted upright at the sound of Tia’s worried voice. My assistant was never concerned. “What? What’s wrong?”
“Your brother is about to be at your front door. Probably with several members of the PR team.”
I swung my legs over the bed, heaving myself towards my closet, where I threw a robe over my silky nightgown and stumbled down the hallway. “How bad is it?” I didn’t bother asking what it was. If my brother was involved, it had to do with one of us, and since Will was the most critical of us, I knew it was probably about me.
My first scandal. How delightful.
“It’s not bad. At least not in my opinion. Some people think you’re harboring a crazy man and using him for publicity.”
I groaned, grabbing a clip from my nightstand and throwing my dark hair up at the back of my head. “But we’ve not even gone to the media about Neal.”
“I’m not saying it’s reasonable. But we need to get out in front of it. I’ll let Will and his people get started. I’ll be there in thirty.”
“Bring coffee. Or chocolate.”
“I’ll have both.”
Hanging up, I tumbled from my bed, grumbling about nosy media and even more nosy siblings who thought everything was a bigger deal than it was. I flipped the lights on in the main living room, scuffling around my kitchen as I attempted to locate something to wake me up. I didn’t get halfway through pouring a bowl of cereal when a light knock sounded on my front door. Sighing, I moved to the door, flipping the locks. Immediately Will filled the doorway, his voice booming as he charged past me.
“We need to move fast, Pen.”
“Will, calm down.” I glanced down the small entry to the private elevators. No one else yet. I yanked my robe closed. Thank God for small miracles. “I’m sure it’s fine.”
“If we don’t move first, there’s going to be a news piece tonight on your attack. Not only will it expose the issues with safety and confidentiality within Madeline Media, but they will have to address the fact that your protector was moved into your house afterwards.”
I slowly closed the door, leaving it unlocked for the entourage that was no doubt coming soon. “Will, it’s going to be fine.”
“I don’t like this,” Will growled.
I popped my hands up on my hips, frustration growing in my chest as I rounded on my eldest sibling.
To my surprise, a voice echoed through the foyer with surprising strength. “You need to calm down.”
Will blinked, turning to find Neal standing in the door to his suite. He was in a pair of gray sweatpants and white tee, obviously having been woken up by the discussion Will and I were having. And while his curls were mussed from sleep, his expression was wide awake, eyes trained on my brother.
It took Will a moment to respond. During which I stepped closer to Neal, compelled by the way he slowly crossed his arms. “What did you say?”
Neal didn’t budge, his bare feet spread wide. “I don’t like the way you were talking to her.”
“I’m her brother.”
“All the more reason you should not be shouting.” Neal’s voice was level, low, and I took another step in his direction. “From the sounds of it, this is about me. No reason to be angry with her.”
Will blinked, looking between us. “I’m not mad at her.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” Neal suddenly moved forward, coming to stand closer to me with an ease that my brother watched closely.
I could see his mind whirling, his expression thoughtful as he regarded us. After a long moment, Will sighed.
“I’m sorry, Pen. I shouldn’t have come flying in.” Will’s apology was sincere, gentle, and I softened immediately. My brother’s overprotective side was something I’d encountered plenty. Whatever girl someday stole his heart would have her hands full.
I smiled, tucking a now-free strand of hair behind my ear. “Thank you for the apology. You still haven’t gotten to why this is such a big deal. People are attacked in Chicago all the time.”
“It seems like we were hiding something. We know those men were after you.” Will turned to Neal. “But why were you there?”
“I don’t have much of a home these days,” Neal began but then hesitated. When neither Will nor I responded, he begrudgingly continued on. “I used to live in that area. It’s comfortable. When I saw those men following Penelope, I felt like something was wrong.”
“You just happened to be there?”
Neal’s face was blank. “I just happened to be there.”
Tension bloomed once more. It broke when I reached out, surprising everyone in the room—maybe even myself—when I wrapped my hand around Neal’s elbow.
“Neal is a hero, my hero, and we are assisting him in getting back onto his feet. I think that’s clear enough. Don’t you?”
Will hesitated, his attention now on where I gripped Neal’s arm, where the warmth of his skin steadied me. Then slowly, begrudgingly, he agreed. “Make the statement, exactly what you said. And take some pictures together. Here is fine. That way we don’t look like you’ve kidnapped the poor man.”
Neal grunted, and I thought for a moment it might have been the beginnings of a laugh, but my brother continued on.
“Do you have anything else you can wear?”
Silently I let my eyes trail down Neal’s form. It was true. I hadn’t seen him in anything but sweatpants and loose fitted tees since he’d woken up. And his other clothes had been ruined by the blood and wear. My mouth opened, ready to assure Will that he could wear whatever he liked, when Neal answered for me.
“Miss Dougherty…” His eyes found mine. “The younger Miss Dougherty wanted to take me shopping tomorrow—or rather, today. I’m sure we can manage to find some things suitable.”
Will looked relieved. “Perfect. Madeline to the rescue.”
I frowned at him, releasing Neal and stepping around him. “Don’t you think you’ve gone a little overboard, Will? This could’ve easily been a conversation at a reasonable hour, or maybe even a text.”
“Reasonable hour?”
I gestured down at my robe. “You woke us all up for a non-event.”
Will blinked, his cheeks looking a little pink. “Sorry, Pen. I… I haven’t even been to bed yet.”
My heart squeezed.
“I was up anyway,” Neal offered casually from behind me, and to my shock, my brother huffed a short laugh and stepped up, holding out a hand.
“Sorry for being such a dick all the time,” Will said, shaking Neal’s hand.
I snorted, rolling my eyes. “No, he’s not.”
Will sighed, “No, I’m not, but I’m sorry you had to deal with it. Usually I save my meltdowns for special occasions.”
Neal shrugged the comment off, releasing my brother's hand as Will marched back to the front door, flinging it open just in time to see our head of media, Tia, and an assembly of other Madeline Media employees staring back at us.
Will looked back at me, and I frowned. “Absolutely not. You called them all here. You can deal with getting them all out.”
“Great.” Will squared his shoulders and, arms held wide to shoo people ahead of him, left the apartment, taking the crowd with him.
I immediately flipped the locks closed and turned to lean against the back of the door.
“What a mess.”
Neal’s footsteps were soft, so much so that I didn’t realize how close he was until I opened my eyes. My heart raced as he stopped just a step away from me. “I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused you.” His tone was gruff.
“You have to stop apologizing. You saved me, remember?” I reached out, placing a hand against his chest briefly. “I can handle this.”
I could feel his gaze hot on my face as I ducked my chin and snatched my hand back, muttering a brief apology.
“I’m no hero, Penelope.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Mr. Crowe,” I said, moving towards the kitchen. “You’re the best kind of hero.”