Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Archie Featherington’s ruin took place in stages.

First, after years and years of broken promises and lies, he ran out of friends and family willing to listen. No amount of begging could get his hands on another single pence.

The Featheringtons were no longer welcomed at social events and their names were spoken of in hushed scandalised whispers within their former circles: “Did you hear what Archie Featherington got himself into? I heard he went to see Quincy Cowper of all people, begging on his hands and knees for a loan.”

Second, when the money dried up and formal demands started appearing in their mail, he conveniently wasn’t home. Different process servers came knocking on their front door every second day while Portia retreated into her bedroom, pretending she didn’t hear them.

Third, when the knocking became hammering fists, Penelope and her sisters noticed men with tattooed necks and knuckles lingering on the street outside their home. They became aware of cold, dead shark eyes tracking their every movement, and that was perhaps when their father realised he was well and truly done.

He filed for bankruptcy and disappeared into mist the very next day.

One week after her father’s disappearance, Penelope sat in a windowless room with her mother, enduring the dubious comments from the detective on the other side of the table.

“Please, you must believe me. Archie would never just run away without telling me and the girls.” Penelope listened to her mother entreat the unsympathetic Detective Constable with a growing sense of surreal unreality.

“Perhaps he did,” DC Conway said, with a raised eyebrow. “The timing is awfully convenient, innit?”

“What do you mean? Convenient?”

“I mean convenient, ma’am. Especially considering he took out a hefty life insurance policy very recently. That cash would come in handy, wouldn’t it? For your family to start a cushy new life somewhere?”

Portia shook her head in distress and continued to plead, but it was clear her words were falling on deaf ears. Penelope and her mother were escorted to a small lounge equipped with a kitchenette to wait while DC Conway prepared some paperwork.

Penelope looked around the room, at the box of children’s toys and dog-eared picture books. Pamphlets lined the wall on topics ranging from domestic abuse to grief counselling.

She sat beside her mother, feeling helpless and numb, as Portia sobbed quietly into a tissue. Her mother’s grief was not something she was equipped to manage. Her mother had been an unbeatable force of nature, tenacious and uncowed by anything life threw at her. And life had not been kind to Portia Featherington. But Penelope had never witnessed Portia give into her fear before. So she sat quietly next to her mother as she fell apart, staring at nothing, waiting for the next blow to fall.

She thought about her sisters, back at home, packing up their belongings into boxes. Any furniture in the house that was worth anything would be left for the creditors to fight over. That house had belonged to the Featheringtons for hundreds of years. And now it would be sold off to a wealthy investment banker, perhaps, someone with funds who would fix the leaking roof and the crumbling kitchen wall that had been neglected for too long.

Penelope moved to the kitchenette, intending to make a cup of tea just to give herself something to do. But she ended up just staring blankly at the idyllic green countryside on the box of Yorkshire tea, wondering why life was just so fucking hard—

“Pen.”

She started and turned to the doorway of the lounge.

Colin Bridgerton stood there, looking handsome, concerned, and so out of place in the police station that she wondered if she was dreaming.

“Colin?”

In two steps he was in front of her, drawing her into his arms. Penelope buried her face against the soft wool of his dark navy peacoat, breathing in the crisp clean scent of him, not caring that her mother was in the room, a witness to this familiar embrace.

“What are you doing here?” She asked in confusion.

She had not seen Colin in the flesh for months. His restaurant was a demanding mistress and he was in the midst of opening a second one.

The last time she’d seen him was nearly a month ago at Eloise’s farewell party before she left for her master’s degree exchange program in the US. Penelope had drank too much and cried into his shoulder about losing her best friend. He had been sweet, looking after her and insisting on driving her home after the pub closed.

She wasn’t sure what he was doing here; it was a Friday evening, the busiest night at his restaurant.

“El called me,” he said by way of explanation when he drew back. His brow was furrowed, his eyes dark with worry. “How are you holding up?”

Penelope looked over at her mother, who was slumped in her seat. Her forehead rested on her hand, too wrapped up in her own distress to even register Colin’s presence. She looked back up at Colin.

“The police don’t believe us,” she said, her voice croaky and hoarse. “They think dad did a runner. Or that he’s faking his death so we can collect his insurance money.”

Colin’s expression of concern morphed to outrage. “They what?”

“They’re not even going to investigate—” her voice broke on the last word and Colin made a sound of sympathy and drew her back into his arms. She closed her eyes and let herself sink into the embrace, tears slipping silently down her cheeks. She was so tired, so beat down, and Colin’s frame felt strong and sturdy. She allowed herself to lean against him just for a few, aching seconds.

After a moment, he drew back, guiding her to a chair. “Wait here.” And then he was gone.

She wiped at her face, trying to regain composure. She should not have been surprised that Colin would drop everything to come to see if she was alright. That was just who he was—kind, caring, considerate. He was the reason why she found it hard to date any man for more than three months at a time. They simply could not compare.

Still, Penelope knew he would never view her as anything more than a friend. She had been resigned to that fact since they were teenagers. But she knew she had a special space in his heart: he never forgot her birthday—no matter where in the world he was, no matter how busy he was—and he never went more than three days without sending her a text message to check in, even if it was just a silly meme or a TikTok. So no, it was not astonishing that Colin had come to see her, but she was amazed all the same.

She looked over at her mother’s tear-grimed face. The expression on it was familiar—Portia was done crying. She was hardening herself now, in the way Penelope had never really been able to do, turning herself into steel in order to survive.

Portia didn’t acknowledge Colin’s arrival or his departure.

Instead, she started making plans. Prudence would move in with her fiance and Portia would go to Ireland to live with her cousin. Moreover, she expected Penelope to leave with her.

A sick, sinking sort of feeling took over Penelope’s stomach, much worse than the numb dread that had accompanied her throughout the entirety of this terrible afternoon.

“We’ll leave tonight,” Portia said, wiping her face.

“Mum…” she began, already worn down before even beginning her argument. Portia was in a state, her red-rimmed eyes bleak and hard, and the relentless outpouring of semi-panicked planning told her that it wouldn’t be easy.

“You’ll pack as soon as we get home,” Portia ordered, not listening at all. “Your sisters are probably finished.”

“Mum, I’m not going to Ireland. I can’t. My job is here—”

The mention of Penelope’s job triggered the usual reaction in her mother’s face. A sneer and utter dismissal. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not. I’m staying in London. I can’t just leave.”

“You’ll be homeless,” her mother said sharply.

Bone deep exhaustion settled inside her. “I’ll stay with a friend until I find my own place.”

She half-expected Portia to scoff and say, what friend? But her mother narrowed her eyes and said, “Have you any idea how expensive London is? You’ll never be able to afford even the worst kind of dump. It’s wasteful to even think of it!”

Portia’s eyes bore into Penelope like daggers and she braced herself for the usual cuts. Her job was worthless. She was an underachiever, a failure, and Portia was doing her a favour by taking her to Ireland. “You need to stop being so naive, Penelope. I’m in no state of mind to deal with your fanciful ideas. What I need from you right now is for you to grow up.”

Grow up. Get thinner. Give up. Quit school and find a real job, or marry some rich bloke who would put ten carats on her finger so Portia could brag about it at brunch with her snooty, back-stabbing friends.

She opened her mouth to say something in her own defence like she had done a million times before but, like always, nothing came out. What would be the point? Portia’s mind was made up.

“I’m not going to Ireland,” she repeated instead.

Watching her mother’s nostrils flare in preparation for a cutting remark triggered a flight response inside her, but Penelope squashed it down. She wasn’t going anywhere. DC Conway wasn’t back yet, and she suspected he was not in a hurry to speak to them again. Colin had disappeared, after coming all this way, and she wouldn’t just run away without looking for him first.

“You—”

Colin’s voice said from behind her, “She can stay with me.”

She turned as he came through the door. His gaze slid past her towards Portia letting her know that the hard note in his tone wasn’t directed towards her. “I’ve got plenty of room.”

Portia’s eyes darted between him and Penelope. She seemed agitated by the very idea. “That’s very kind of you, Colin, but I’ve already made arrangements for myself and Penelope. There’s no need.”

“If you’re worried about safety, I can promise you I’ll take care of her. I’ve already spoken to the DC’s superior, DI Hardy. He’ll be taking over your husband’s case. Penelope won’t be in any danger staying in London. My building has 24 hour security and concierge service, and it’s not far from her work.”

Colin turned and faced Penelope, cupping her elbow with a reassuring hand. His touch grounded her and settled down that disquieting desire to flee. “I’m gone all day, so you’ll have the run of the place. No disturbances, just peace and quiet. If you want.”

Penelope darted a look at Portia’s face. She knew her mother hated the idea of accepting charity from the Bridgertons. It had always been a spot of contention for Penelope growing up. Each time Penelope came home after spending the summer at Aubrey Hall or her winter break skiing in Chamonix-Mont-Blanc, staying at the Bridgertons’ charming Italian chalet, she would be received with cold and resentful silence from her mother and sisters.

She took his hand and pulled him into the hallway so they could speak in private. “Colin, this is kind of you, but—”

“Pen,” Colin gripped her upper arms and stared down at her, his expression solemn and determined. “Please don’t say you don’t want to be a burden to me. Where else are you going to stay?”

“I—my friend, Emma, could let me stay with her.”

“Does Emma have an extra room for you or were you planning on ruining your back sleeping on her couch?”

“I—” she stared up at him and said in a small voice, “it’s too much to ask of you.”

“It’s not,” Colin said firmly. “You’re family. It’s the least I can do for you. Pen.” He wrapped his hands closed around her fingers, and she realised how cold and clammy her skin had become now that it was enveloped in the warmth of his hands.

“Don’t overthink it,” Colin urged her, his gaze intense and insistent. “Just let someone take care of you for once.”

Ten minutes ago, she had no home and no chance that she would ever know where her dad was. Colin had just walked into the room and taken control of everything within a matter of minutes, like her own personal white knight.

Penelope stared up at him, too worn out to resist. After all, wasn’t it the perfect solution? She could stay in London and she could keep her job.

In a lightheaded kind of daze, Penelope nodded.

Chapter Text

“Have you gotten any updates?” Eloise asked over the phone.

Penelope stared out of her bedroom windows at the ridiculous view of Tower Bridge, lit up against the inky night sky. Not that she had the emotional bandwidth to appreciate it.

“No,” Penelope replied. “They haven’t found him yet. I try to remind myself that no news is good news but—”

It had been weeks. Three weeks since her dad had disappeared. Two weeks since Colin had used the Bridgerton name to pressure the police into taking Archie Featherington’s disappearance seriously. One week since she’d moved in with Colin.

She voiced a horrible, angry thought, one she couldn’t hold back. “I hope he really is dead, El. Because if he isn’t...If he really just decided to run and leave us all behind—” Penelope’s breath hitched and she couldn’t continue. She was crying again.

Eloise was uncharacteristically quiet on the other end, as if she sensed that Penelope did not want to hear any empty reassurances, she just needed her best friend to listen.

“I love you,” Eloise said after a long pause, her voice scratchy and filled with emotion. “I hate that I’m not there with you right now.”

Penelope wiped at her eyes. “I love you, too. I wish you were here, but Colin’s been taking good care of me.”

“Has he?” Eloise asked, dubiously. “You said you barely see him.”

That was true, Colin had been as good as his word. She had the flat to herself most of the time and barely got to see him. He didn’t return home some nights until well past midnight and he was usually asleep when she left for work in the mornings.

But Colin made up for his lack of presence in otherways. The fridge was always fully stocked with ready-made meals he brought home for her from work. Some nights she got a call from the concierge downstairs to inform her that Colin had ordered food to be delivered to her from one of her favourite restaurants.

There wasn’t even any housework for her to do. A housekeeping team came twice a week to change the bedsheets, keep the flat spotless, and even leave an arrangement of fresh seasonal flowers on the kitchen bench and—since her arrival—on her bedside table.

Colin was already doing so much for her, agreeing for her to stay with him until she was in a position to rent a flat on her own. It was encouraging to see her meagre savings account growing everyday.

Penelope wished there was something she could do for him in return. In fact, it was making her increasingly ill at ease — feeling like a freeloader, taking advantage of Colin’s kindness and care and not being able to give anything else back.

🎀 🎀 🎀

The next morning, Penelope woke up to the alluring scent of something that smelt suspiciously like sausages cooking on the stove.

She rolled onto her back and stretched sleepily. She’d never slept as well as she had these past two weeks than in Colin’s soft, fluffy cloud of a spare king-sized bed. The underfloor heating kept the flat at a perfect temperature no matter what time of the day it was and the thickness of the glass kept the noise out, even though the flat was located on the third floor of a building that used to be a brewhouse in the middle of the city. There was nothing to disturb Penelope while she slept, no squabbling sisters, no screaming matches between her parents.

Sleep was a luxury she hadn’t had much of these past years. Juggling assignments for her post-grad communications degree, her job as a junior editorial assistant at The Ton, and picking up extra waitressing shifts or dog walking jobs whenever she could in her efforts to keep up the loan payments, Penelope felt worn paper thin.

Penelope checked the time on her phone. It was nearly seven in the morning.

She padded into the kitchen, a sleek little space tucked in between the open living and dining area with a view of the full-length windows overlooking the Thames and the iconic London skyline.

Colin was at the stove, hair still wet from his shower and already dressed for the day in a light blue Oxford shirt tucked into his dark grey slacks.

“Good morning,” Colin beamed at her, his smile lighting up his already devastatingly handsome features. She felt rather like a troll in comparison, standing sleepily in the middle of the room with swollen eyes and insane bedhead, wearing an oversized, black JVN hoodie and her thick black framed glasses, while stifling a yawn.

“Morning,” Penelope croaked. She sidled up beside him to peek at what he was cooking. He didn’t hesitate to tuck her up against him and give her a tight squeeze with one arm. She felt her stomach swoop at the familiar clean, ambery scent of his cologne.

Colin pressed an affectionate kiss to the top of her head. “How’d you sleep?”

“Like the dead,” Penelope said, peering at the frypan filled with sausages and mushrooms sizzling on the stove. There was also a bowl of freshly sliced strawberries, blueberries, and figs and a box of fresh buttery croissants and brionuts from Colin’s favourite bakery. “This is a treat, what’s the occasion?”

“The occasion is my morning meeting got cancelled, the sun is out, I went for a full hour run, and now I get to have croissants for breakfast with my favourite girl,” Colin said cheerfully as he cradled a bowl of egg mixture to vigorously whisk the contents with a fork. Penelope tried to ignore the shiver of pleasure she felt at his words.

“I don’t know where you store all that energy,” Penelope said, tiredly. “Running one and a half restaurants and you still have the discipline for your workouts every morning.”

“I could say the same for you,” he said as he carefully poured the egg mixture into a fresh pan. “Studying while working full-time and odd jobs on the side for all these years.”

“I was just trying to survive,” Penelope said, not even trying to be humble. It was true. She’d been driven by fear and an instinct to survive for so long, but now her family wasn’t relying on her to keep up the loan payments anymore, it suddenly felt like she could breathe again.

Colin’s face softened. He put down the spatula, turned and leaned down to pull her in for another hug. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he said simply, when he finally pulled away.

Penelope took it on herself to make the coffee as Colin busied himself pulling out plates from the overhead German-crafted cabinets which slid smartly open at a gentle press of a hand. She deftly operated Colin’s ridiculously expensive coffee machine, steamed the oat milk perfectly, and even used the chance to practise her latte art, creating two perfect tulips as she poured the milk into the coffee cups. She no longer had to pick up shifts at a cafe, but she didn’t want to get rusty.

They ate their breakfast at the kitchen counter companionably while Colin told her about the ongoing feud between the head chef and the maître d’ at his first restaurant, Ambrosia, and the fight Colin had gotten into with his contractor yesterday over the snail’s pace of construction on his second restaurant.

It was nice, Pen reflected. To just sit and enjoy breakfast with him, to listen to his frustrations and lend a sympathetic ear. Colin was so passionate about his vision for his second restaurant, Contessa, which was inspired by his travels in Italy, but he felt irritated by his partners, who were only interested in how to get the hottest influencers to promote their business.

When they finished, he checked his watch and started clearing up and loading up the dishwasher over Penelope’s protests, waving aside her attempts to help and telling her to go get ready for work. As she left him to shower and get dressed for the day, she felt a surge of unease again, fretting that she was too much of a burden, receiving too much and giving nothing in return.

🎀 🎀 🎀

Later that evening, Penelope looked up from her screen and realised it was almost midnight. She rubbed her eyes tiredly, hit the submit button for her assignment, and stretched her arms, trying to loosen the tension that had gathered in her shoulders.

She closed her laptop and stood up from her desk, staring blearily out her bedroom window with its marvellous view of Tower Bridge.

With a sigh, Penelope went to heat up some leftover pad thai and ate it standing up in the kitchen, listening to the low hum of the kitchen appliances and staring out the enormous windows.

As she ate, she became aware of a familiar knot in her chest, a strained feeling thrumming in her blood, worries, thoughts that swirled around and piled up in her head. She wondered how her mother was, which was followed immediately with a wave of anger at the fact that Portia was refusing to speak to her at the moment. Then came the familiar anxiety that Colin would grow to resent her living in his home feeding off his generosity and goodwill like a parasite.

A longing to talk to Eloise rose in her, but it was nearly 4 o’clock in the States and she knew her friend would still be in class for another two hours.

Finishing her food, Penelope took care to clean up after herself.

She considered taking a sleeping tablet and crawling into bed to call it a day, but instead, she headed into her ensuite and turned on her self-care playlist on her phone. She dimmed the bathroom lights and lit some candles as Eartha Kitt crooned to her about the birds and the bees.

First, she luxuriated in a long hot shower. Then, scrubbed clean and pink, she towelled her hair dry, massaged serum into her scalp, and applied moisturiser to every inch of her body she could reach.

Penelope was just starting on her skincare routine when she heard the sound of the lift doors opening—yes, the lift was the entrance to the flat, it was completely ridiculous—and the sound of Colin’s soft footsteps. His bedroom was on the other side of the flat, but she heard him pause and then move towards her bedroom and ensuite.

“Pen?” She heard him call her name out hesitantly.

“In here,” Penelope replied. A few moments later, he appeared in the doorway of the ensuite.

“I didn’t expect you to still be awake.”

Penelope looked at his reflection in the mirror as she gently patted her face dry.

He looked like hell.

“I was just about to turn in,” Penelope said, dispensing a pump of toner onto her fingertips and applying the cool liquid to her cheeks and forehead. “How was your evening?”

“Fucked,” Colin said, curtly. He sat himself down on the small bench in the bathroom and leaned wearily against the wall. “A couple of stakeholders showed up right in the middle of dinner service and demanded to know what was happening with the contractors for the new restaurant. I told them I was dealing with it, but they insisted on a meeting with Anthony.”

Penelope hummed sympathetically while she listened. She knew how much it grated on him when Anthony had to get involved in his business. His brother was one of the majority investors—it took a lot of capital to get a restaurant up and running—but Colin worked his fingers to the bone.

She continued applying her serum as he ranted and cursed, interjecting to ask for additional details.

Penelope dug through her skincare bag and let out an annoyed sound.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” Penelope said. “I’m just out of my favourite moisturiser.” She showed him the tiny sample jar, now empty. The full size product was too expensive for her to justify. Japanese name-brand skincare was definitely a want, not a need. Even if her pores soaked up the silky lotion and gave her skin a dewy, luminescent glow that the skincare from Boots she normally made do with could never come close to achieving.

She dropped the empty jar into the rubbish bin at her feet.

“Come on,” she turned and tugged Colin to his feet. “Let’s do something fun and not restaurant related.”

Upclose, she noticed the dark circles beneath his eyes and his shoulders slumped a little from weariness. Stubble dotted his chin, casting a shadow over the lower half of his handsome face. She wanted to reach out and rub his jaw or press her face against his to feel the scratchy texture against her own skin.

“I’m going to make us both dirty martinis and put on a loud and stupid movie.”

Colin followed her obediently to the living room, sinking into the sofa with a grateful groan. They talked as Penelope moved to the bar fridge, which had been built into the wooden sideboard, to pull out a jar of olives. When she handed him the drink, Colin accepted it gratefully, reaching out to take her hand in his own, his thumb rubbing over her knuckles as he took a long sip.

Her body was too well trained to react. She was used to it—Colin was tactile and expressive. When she was a teenager, it had nearly driven her to madness. Not that she was impervious to him now, not at all, she still loved his touches; it was just easier to resist the urge to purr and arch her back like a cat in response to being touched and stroked by him.

“Do you want something to eat?” she asked. “I already ate, but—”

“No, I’m good.” Colin set his glass down, and tugged Penelope into the space between his spread thighs, wrapping his arms around her waist in a hug. She ran her hands over his shoulders and his neck, feeling the tension in his muscles.

Colin touching her was just him being friendly. Penelope touching Colin the way she wanted to touch him was…too tempting. So she mostly kept her hands to herself unless he initiated it first. That was the rule she’d imposed on herself and lived by for most of her life.

“How was your day?” Colin asked. She shivered a little at the vibration of his voice against her belly.

“It was alright,” Penelope murmured softly, giving into the impulse to thread her fingers through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp with her nails. Colin shuddered and made a noise that sent heat pooling between her thighs. His arms tightened around her and he buried his face against her stomach.

“Oh, God, do that again.” Colin begged in a low voice, sending a shiver down her spine.

So, she did it again, running her fingers through his thick curls with care, trailing her nails gently over his skull until he pulled away, staring up at her with his mouth half open, eyes dazed.

Penelope stared back, feeling frozen and unsure of what to do next. Colin broke their gaze first, clearing his throat.

“Sorry,” he apologised.

Penelope wasn’t quite sure what he was apologising for, but she gave his shoulders a reassuring rub before she took a seat beside him.

She leaned against him as she searched for something to watch. She could still feel the tension in the room and did not want him to think his touch was unwelcome. Eventually, his arm went around her, tucking her securely against him while his other hand came to rest on her thigh, warm and heavy. She was acutely aware of how long his legs were in comparison to her own and how thick his biceps looked under his fitted shirt.

Finally, she settled on an old movie they’d both seen multiple times.

“Is this okay?” Colin asked, referring to the way he had pulled her body against his.

She nodded and happily nestled into his arms. He draped a soft cashmere blanket over their bodies and everything was bliss as far as Penelope was concerned.

“I might fall asleep,” he warned her. He rubbed his face. “I hope I do.”

“That’s okay. You look like you need it.”

He nodded into her hair. “Yeah.”

The movie blared on. Colin’s chest rose and fell, his breathing growing deep and even. Penelope thought he must have fallen asleep, but when she glanced up at his face, she saw his eyes were still open. She felt him sigh, the sound rumbly and deep.

She laid her hand on his chest, rubbing it soothingly, “Colin?”

“Hey.”

“Tired?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe you should go to bed.”

He shook his head. “Won’t make a difference.”

She understood the feeling. Until she’d moved in with him, the stress of everyday life—of working herself to death to make ends meet and to support her family on top of it—had wreaked havoc on her mental health. Sleepless nights were commonplace to her, had been so normal she hadn’t realised just how much of a toll it took on her body and soul.

Poor Colin. Her heart went out to him and she wished she knew what to do to help him.

“Do you want to lie down?” she asked. “It might help.”

Colin nodded. He shifted and then paused, as if loathe to separate their bodies. Then he asked hesitantly, “Could you…lie down on top of me?”

“On top of you?”

“Yeah. Like…a weighted blanket.”

“Oh.” She bit her lip, kind of wary. Penelope wasn’t exactly lightweight. But it was Colin asking. Colin, who had been taking such amazing care of her, without asking for anything in return until now.

So, she did as he asked.

He spread himself out on the spacious sofa on his back and Penelope crawled carefully on top of him, chest to chest, her thighs bracketing his hips, and her head neatly tucked into the crook of his neck.

“Is this okay?” Penelope asked quietly.

Colin nodded. “More than okay.”

The cashmere blanket covered her, and now she thought she really knew bliss. It was lovely and she didn’t even try to hide the contented sigh that escaped from her lips.

She watched the film from this new, delicious position, the sound of Colin’s heartbeat in her ear, lulling her into utter peacefulness. He liked this, she realised. He found her weight soothing.

His hand stroked her back, long passes down the length of her spine, his fingers occasionally catching on the back clasp of her bra. He toyed with it and she wondered if he realised what he was doing.

Unfortunately, although Penelope was enjoying it, the new position didn’t seem to help him with his sleep problem at all. Colin continued to fiddle with her bra and his body wasn’t relaxing or sinking into the couch, it remained tense.

Finally, she lifted her head, looked him in the eye. “What’s the matter?”

He didn’t seem to want to say at first. But then, with a sheepish look, he said, “You feel really good on top of me.”

She was puzzled. “So, what’s the problem? Why can’t you sleep?”

“I can feel your bra.”

Well, obviously, if he kept playing with it. She didn’t quite understand, until she felt his hand move from the back band to trace the edge of the underwire along the side of her breast.

Oh.

That was what he meant. The underwire must be digging into his chest. Of course. She was so used to having that piece of metal clamped beneath her boobs that she’d forgotten it was there.

“Do you think…” He spoke, slow and hesitant. “Maybe you could take it off?”

Penelope’s brain stuttered and it took her a moment to reply. “Yeah,” she said, trying to keep her tone casual. Like his request was no big deal. “Okay. I can take it off.”

She sat up and reached under her shirt to unclasp her bra. She tugged the straps through the sleeves and let it fall to the floor. She refused to look him in the eye as she laid back down on his chest, forcing herself to play it cool.

“Do you always wear bras at home?”

“Most of the time, yeah,” Penelope scrunched up her nose. “I need the support. If I go braless, it starts to hurt after a while.”

Colin stroked her back, this time without interference. “Is it okay like this?”

“If I’m lying down, yeah. I take off my bra when I go to sleep. Or I wear a sports bra.”

She snuggled against him. Her cheeks turned red as she felt her nipples press into the firmness of his chest. It felt good without the padding of her bra in the way and she hoped it wasn't too obvious to him that her nipples had stiffened, responding to the heat and proximity of his body.

Don't make it weird, she told herself. He's exhausted. He's your friend.

She worried away at her bottom lip, the smell of Colin's cologne and laundry detergent filling her nostrils. She grew increasingly aware of his breathing, which had become even and regular…

He was asleep. At last.

Penelope tilted her head back and looked at him, his face serene in repose. Fondness crowded her heart, amongst other feelings, ones she wouldn't allow herself to entertain.

She stood up carefully, trying her best not to jostle him. He frowned in his sleep and shifted, as though missing the weight of her. She draped the blanket over his long body and indulged herself with one final gentle brush of her fingers over his forehead and the soft curls of his hair.

"Goodnight," she whispered.

In the morning, sunlight poured through the window, waking her from a deep sleep. Penelope sat up slowly, stretching as she did. She blinked, disoriented, and reached for her phone.

There was a text from Colin.

Thanks for last night, Pen. Slept more than I have in months.

See you at home.

Chapter Text

It had been a long day at work.

Penelope was the editorial assistant to Agatha Danbury, the Digital Editor of The Ton. She had spent most of the day taking careful notes in Agatha’s meetings with her senior writers, following up on some looming deadlines, fact checking a few articles and arranging Agatha’s schedule for her upcoming trip to New York. Nothing particularly taxing, but everyday tasks that she used to be able to complete without much effort seemed to drain her easily these days.

She’d also had to stay back late, due to Agatha pointing out a fact check error that Penelope had overlooked in an article, and it was close to eight o’clock by the time she got back to Colin’s flat. It was a cold and rainy evening.

Penelope was grateful to change out of her damp office clothes, a plain blouse and black trousers, into an oversized hoodie and joggers and sat down at the kitchen table to open her laptop. She pulled up her assignment and began the laborious process of editing her paper and checking all her footnotes had been properly cited. She had until midnight to submit her assignment and she was cutting it rather close.

At nine o’clock, Penelope happened to glance at her phone and noticed several missed messages.

[From Prudence at 8:27PM]

We need to talk about Aire.

Penelope answer me.

Penelope???

Penelopeeeeeee???

[From Anchor Brewhouse Concierge Service at 8:55PM]

Good Evening, Miss Featherington.

Your food delivery has just arrived.

Penelope’s stomach growled, reminding her that she had skipped lunch and spent most of the day picking at a half-eaten muffin at her desk and filling up on coffee. She ventured downstairs to the front desk and was handed a brown paper bag.

Back in the flat, she set the bag on the kitchen table and peeked inside to find a gourmet bento set: miso soup, two pieces of california roll covered with orange roe, tamago, light and crispy tempura battered vegetables and prawns, fluffy rice, a fresh green salad covered with a citrusy dressing, and a generous scoop of creamy potato salad.

Penelope took sips of the miso soup as she unpacked the boxes. Her phone dinged and she set the cup of soup on the dining table to pick up her phone.

[From Colin at 9:13PM]

don’t forget to eat 🍣

The warm feeling that she got reading the message immediately disappeared when Prudence’s name flashed on the phone screen and it began to ring.

Penelope let her sense of guilt for ignoring her sister overcome her dread and answered the call with a cautious, “Hey.”

“Finally,” Prudence snapped, her tone frosty. “I’ve been trying to reach you for days!”

“I know,” said Penelope. “I’m sorry, Pru. Work’s crazy and I’m trying—”

She didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence. Prudence interrupted, uninterested in what she clearly thought were excuses. Or it was just her usual default of considering the details of Penelope’s life boring and unimportant. Prudence hadn’t asked how she was holding up since they’d moved out of their family home, only remarking coolly in their group chat with Philippa that Penelope’s years of being Eloise’s crony had paid off. Seething jealousy was something Prudence was deeply prone to, despite having a fiancé who adored her and a cushy job that didn’t demand much from her except showing up.

“We need to talk about Aire. The reservation needs to be made soon and I can’t select a package until I know exactly how much you can contribute.”

Nothing, Penelope thought, fighting an urge to scream into the receiver. Prudence had been pushing for this ridiculously overpriced, influencer-advertised spa package for her hen do. Even before their lives imploded with their father’s disappearance, the idea had been wildly out of touch. They couldn’t afford it.

Penelope had no idea how the wedding Prudence wanted would even be paid for. Her fiancé, Harry, earned a comfortable living, but it was modest at best and they’d been relying on Portia to fund the venue and expenses. That definitely wasn’t happening now and Penelope wondered if her sister was just simply in denial.

“We agreed,” Prudence reminded her with an accusing tone. “We split for Philippa.”

Yes, and Penelope had run herself ragged for weeks working odd jobs to make up for it.

“I know we did,” Penelope replied.

She suspected Prudence still had a maxed out credit card two years later. The thought of lingering debt exhausted Penelope. After all Colin had done for her, she couldn’t put herself back into debt for Prudence’s sake. She couldn’t.

Her sister waited for her to say the words she wanted to hear.

“Okay,” she said finally into the terse silence, hating herself for capitulating, for letting Prudence guilt trip her. “I’ll figure something out.”

“Good,” Prudence said and hung up, clearly still angry.

The dead line felt like another weight added to the mountain on her chest. Penelope was staring at her phone when it rang again, this time with an unknown caller ID. Anxiety swept over her but, despite the impulse to reject the call and chalk it up to spam, Penelope knew in her gut she had to answer.

“Miss Featherington? This is DI Hardy. I’m calling because I have an update on your father’s missing person case and I have a few questions for you.”

Penelope’s heart did an unpleasant flip. “Yes?”

Unlike DC Conway, DI Hardy was gruff, but not unkind. He got to the point immediately. “We recovered your father’s last known mobile number on a phone seized in a recent drug bust. The only contact between them was a call your father made on the night of his disappearance.”

Something cold slithered into Penelope’s chest and made it difficult to breathe. She forced herself to inhale and exhale, waiting for Hardy to continue.

“Does the name David Samadani sound familiar? Do you know anything about this man, or why your father would be calling him on the night of his disappearance?”

“No,” she answered, truthfully. “I’ve never heard my father mention him.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“Alright,” said Hardy. “I’ll be in contact again if I have any more information or questions.”

Penelope ended the call, disquieted and unnerved.

Drugs. Her father had been involved with drug dealers. The idea was ludicrous, unimaginable—but life had taken such terrible, unfathomable turns lately that nothing could surprise Penelope anymore. The gnawing anxiety in her gut intensified and she thought desperately for a few seconds of Colin, wondering where he was, what he was doing, and if he would pick up if she called him.

Penelope bit her lip. No, she didn’t want to disturb him while he was working. It could wait until he got home. She stared into space for a moment, her brain filling with more questions — had the DI called her mother first? Was Portia feeling the same way Penelope did now, betrayed and confused and hurt? Was her mother angry and blindsided, or had she…had she known something her daughters didn’t? Was that why she insisted on leaving London, moving to Ireland to get as far away as she could from—

Don’t go there, she told herself, cutting the awful thoughts dead, her hands shaking as she moved to set her phone down on the table. Mum wouldn’t.

Penelope had forgotten about the tall cup of soup she had left sitting beside her laptop. She watched the catastrophe happen almost in slow motion. Her hand made contact with the paper cup causing it to tip over, the cloudy liquid inside spilling all over her keyboard.

“Fuck!”

She ran into the kitchen, fighting back tears, and lunged for the paper towel roll. By the time she was back in front of her laptop, mopping at the mess, she realised that the screen had turned ominously black.

“No, no, no, no, no,” she muttered desperately as she wiped at the keys. She turned the laptop upside down, then paced up and down the length of the flat, using her phone to google laptop screen went black water spill. She read the search results with a rising sense of panic.

Hands trembling, she stared at the time at the top left hand corner of her phone.

10:17

She was going to miss the deadline. That assignment made up seventy percent of her mark for the unit. It could take days for her to get her computer fixed. If it was even possible to be fixed. What if her assignment was gone? She’d have to start from scratch. The late penalties would bring her mark down. She could fail this unit and be required to take it all over again.

She was so close to graduating. She had planned to speak to Danbury about increasing her responsibilities after graduation, maybe even an opportunity to get some articles published, get a pay rise so she could afford her own flat. She did not want to spend the rest of her life struggling or being a burden, but maybe that would never happen, maybe her mother was right and she was wasting her time chasing her dreams—

Every bit of roiling emotion inside her body burst out. Her stupid mistake at work. Prudence’s unreasonable demand. Her paper. Her deadline. Her missing, possibly dead father.

Penelope couldn’t breathe, there was a heavy rock on her chest and the room was spinning around her. She stumbled to the sliding doors, staggered onto the balcony.

She could barely feel the chilly evening air, she sunk to the cold tiled floor, buried her face in her knees. Her ears were ringing and she could hear a distant keening like an animal in pain.

It took her a moment to realise the sound was her. She took in a shuddering gasp, trying to breathe around the pressure in her chest, but it was no use—

“Pen? Penelope!”

Warm arms wrapped themselves around her, she felt her cheek being pressed against a familiar chest. “Pen, what’s the matter?”

Penelope shook her head, then pushed Colin away as she clamped a hand over her mouth and staggered to her feet in panic.

She was going to be sick.

Penelope ran to her ensuite and hunched over the toilet, her stomach churned, her eyes burned as she heaved, but nothing came up but some bile. Shuddering, sobbing, she rinsed her mouth out in the sink, before walking slowly into her bedroom. He hadn’t even taken off his coat and shoes, instead, he was hovering in the doorway with a troubled expression.

“Pen. What’s wrong? What happened?” He fussed over her, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, stroking her tear stained cheek with his thumb.

“I spilt soup all over my laptop,” Penelope croaked, devastated by her own clumsiness. “The screen went black and won’t turn back on. My assignment is due at midnight. I’m going to fail my unit.” Her voice broke on the last word and she buried her face in Colin’s shirt.

“Deep breaths, Pen,” Colin said, gently. His hands were stroking her back and arms soothingly in an effort to calm her down. Colin had turned on the lights in her bedroom and Penelope squeezed her eyes shut against their harsh glare. She wanted to find herself a dark cavern and sleep for a thousand years. She was so damn tired.

“We can fix this,” he promised her. “Just keep taking deep breaths. In through the nose. Out through the mouth.”

She did as he instructed and eventually she felt her heartbeat slow. She gradually became aware of how tenderly he cradled her in his arms, like she was something precious. She couldn’t recall the last time she had been held like this.

Some time later, Colin pulled back and led her into the living room and told her to lie down on the couch, which she did. He covered her with the throw and turned on the television, putting on an old sitcom that she’d seen a million times already. The familiar lines and laugh track played softly in the room. She was aware of Colin making phone calls in the room, but she did not pay attention to what was being said as she stared mindlessly at the ridiculous drama playing out on the screen.

It occurred to her that she hadn’t even noticed his arrival home. He’d just magically appeared, as if out of thin air, right when she needed him—offering his arms and his soothing voice to calm her down. Panic attacks were not fun to endure alone and she was so very grateful to have him there taking care of her.

A few minutes passed—maybe it was a few, maybe it was more, she’d lost all ability to keep track of time—the lift doors opened. There was the sound of a stranger’s voice, but Penelope could not make out what they said. Her ears and head felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool. Colin replied with a polite thank you, and then the lift doors opened and closed again. Colin returned to the room holding a slip of paper in his hand.

“Pen?” She felt his hand briefly on her cheek. Penelope opened her eyes, blinking up at him.

“Hey,” he said, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I called a computer repair service and they sent a courier to pick up your laptop. This is the receipt. Here, take a photo and email it to your professor.”

Penelope reached up and took the receipt slowly. She felt slow and sluggish. Her head ached and her fingers and feet felt freezing cold. She followed Colin’s instructions, painstakingly typing out an email to her professor with numb fingers while he sat next to her. His body was a solid bulwark for her to lean against for strength when even holding her phone felt taxing.

Once the email was sent, Colin took the phone from her hands. Her arms went limp and she leaned against him gratefully.

“Do you want some food?” Colin asked quietly. “Or I could draw you a bath?”

“No,” Penelope mumbled. “I think I just want to go to sleep.”

Colin helped her to her bedroom. She crawled into bed, her eyes already drooping, she was already fading fast as her head hit the pillow. She felt the warmth of the bedcovers and the press of a kiss to her head.

“Things will be better in the morning, Pen. They always are,” Colin promised.

Penelope wanted to tell him: No, they never are. Not for people like me. But she fell asleep before she could get the words out.

🎀 🎀 🎀

Late morning sunlight filtered through the gap in the curtains Colin had drawn shut, waking Penelope from a restless sleep. Her body felt heavy, still tense from the fractured and unsettling dreams she’d had.

Her eyes flew open.

It was Saturday.

The flat was silent.

She rolled over, staring hopelessly at nothing. She never wanted to get out of bed again. The despair had receded into hollowness and bone-deep exhaustion.

Penelope contemplated staying in bed and wasting the day away. What was the point in trying? Why did she keep trying when all it brought her was failure after failure, disappointment after disappointment?

But then, because Penelope had never been one to give into her misery, she forced herself to sit up, to go into her bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth.

When she walked back into her bedroom, she noticed a sleek, shiny rectangle sitting on her desk.

It was a brand new laptop with a post-it note attached to the cover.

As if she were still dreaming, Penelope approached her desk slowly. Colin’s handwriting was instantly recognizable.

They couldn’t fix your computer.

All your files have been synced and backed up.

She peeled the post-it off the brand new, high-end laptop and felt like kissing it.

How could she accept this?

Colin was too generous. Penelope would never be able to pay him back at this rate—not that he would ever demand compensation. He’d only smile in that way of his and make it seem like no big deal when, in reality, he was uplifting her, saving her from spiralling into loss and chaos.

What are friends for? he’d say.

Prudence’s snide remarks about having friends in high places paying off flitted into Penelope’s head, pricking at her pride. But it was pointless to worry about pride when her life was currently falling apart. The logical, pragmatic part of her brain advised her to just accept Colin’s gestures in the kindness of spirit they were intended. He was her friend. He was a good friend. She ought to be grateful above all else.

She would repay him someday, somehow.

Sitting down, Penelope carefully placed the post-it inside the cover of her journal, sliding the drawer where she kept it shut. Then she opened the laptop and powered it on. Her files had indeed been backed up. Nothing was missing as far as she could see. Her emails, too, were all intact—including an email from her professor, which had been sent late last night, granting her an extension due to extenuating circumstances and her hitherto excellent academic record.

The relief that surged through her brought tears to her eyes. Penelope wept quietly, shoulders trembling.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

She picked up her phone to text Colin, but paused. No. She had to thank him in person. The desire to see him blossomed in her chest, becoming so big and consuming, she couldn’t restrain it.

So she got dressed, taking time to fix her hair and do her makeup before she left the flat, her new laptop shoved into her shoulder bag. The rain from last night had cleared and the restaurant was only a few stops away on the tube. She was carried by a buoyancy that she hadn’t felt in a long time.

The laptop was a solid weight in her bag as she walked, tethering her to the ground beneath her feet again. She’d begun to feel as though she had no control over anything in her life and last night had felt like hitting rock-bottom in a way she couldn’t endure. But Colin’s gift was something physical to hold onto, something that represented her luck turning for the better, at least momentarily. It was enough of a mental reprieve to make things less unbearable.

I can do this, she told herself. I can survive.

Chapter Text

Ambrosia was located in Soho, a vibrant district that boasted an assortment of high-end and trendy eateries. Colin's restaurant wasn’t a place Penelope frequented—it was far above her paygrade. In fact, she'd only been to the restaurant once before for the grand opening, and even then she hadn’t actually sat down to eat at the luxuriously set tables.

The gap between her life and Colin’s couldn’t be more evident. She felt a moment of trepidation as she stood on the doorstep, wondering if showing up like this was going to disrupt his day and inconvenience him. But her need to thank him trumped her self-consciousness, so she made her way inside.

Strangely, the restaurant didn’t seem very busy, but it wasn’t lunch hour yet. A server approached her, looking a bit disdainful as he inquired whether she had a reservation.

“I’m here to see Colin,” she said, and added, “Bridgerton.”

She received a strange look for that, but the guy went to the service counter and picked up the phone.

A minute later, Colin appeared. The serious frown on his face morphed into an expression of surprise, pleasure, and concern. “Pen! What are you doing here?”

She was suddenly tongue-tied, not used to seeing him in his professional setting. At home, his shirts were usually loosened at the collar and cuffs. He was buttoned up now, looking more severely proper than she’d ever seen him.

“I just—I wanted to see you.”

His expression softened, as did the corners of his mouth, and suddenly he felt like her Colin again as he took her hand, asking softly, “Is everything okay?”

She nodded. Because of you. “I wanted to speak to you, it should only take a minute.”

“Come with me to my office.”

Ignoring the looks of his staff as he ushered her through a hallway, past restrooms and boiler rooms and custodian closets—the underbelly of the restaurant that no one ever saw—and up a small flight of stairs. His office was on the floor above the establishment. It wasn’t anything like Colin’s office at home. This was one devoid of personal effects, almost spartan in its practicality, and the desk was littered with papers.

“Sit,” Colin gestured at the chair opposite his. “What did you want to—”

Penelope set her bag down and turned to him.

“Thank you,” she said, embracing him before he could get another word in. “Thank you so, so, so much.”

His arms went around her instantly, enveloping her into a bear hug. She buried her face into his chest, breathing in deeply, rubbing her cheek against the soft cotton of his shirt. There was no one in the world who gave better hugs than Colin—not even Eloise, who came in close second.

Whatever had she done to deserve him? He was so good, and so kind, and—“I can’t thank you enough.”

He ran his hands down her back and she could feel him snuggling his face into the top of her head. His voice was muffled as he spoke teasingly into her hair, “I’d have done it sooner if I knew you’d hug me like this.”

She made a sound against his chest that was half-laughter, half-distress. “I’ll hug you every day if you want.”

“Promise?”

Penelope nodded, the movement brushing her lips over his sternum. Over his big, beating heart. “Every day.”

“I’m going to hold you to that,” he said, lifting his head.

She leaned hers back to look up at him, hoping he grasped the true scope of her gratitude towards him. He smiled, taking her breath away. Penelope impulsively lurched onto her tiptoes, pressing a kiss to his cheek—her aim was wobbly, or maybe it was because Colin tilted his head to observe her—and her lips landed on the corner of his mouth.

Oh. The peck had been light, but the contact left her tingling nevertheless. Colin stared down at her, unmoving, his eyes intent on her lips. Her heart beat a little harder, a little louder, and she felt oddly brave.

She stretched up again and kissed him on the lips.

It wasn’t more than another peck, with the barest pressure exerted, but his lips were soft and warm and she felt the pleasure of it ripple all the way down to her toes.

Exhilaration coursed through Penelope. She pushed down the anxiety that threatened to follow. Kissing her friend didn’t have to be a big deal. It was an expression of love—and she loved Colin, she really did—so she wouldn’t let herself regret it or feel guilty.

Colin blinked down at her. He didn’t look bothered, only surprised. His eyes lingered on her mouth for a brief second.

“Thank you,” she said again. “I heard back from my professor. I can submit my paper after the weekend without penalty.”

Colin’s eyes crinkled. “I’m glad.”

“Thank you.”

He rubbed her shoulder, and she could tell he was on the cusp of telling her to stop thanking him.

“Not just for that,” she added. “For everything. Letting me stay with you. Taking care of me. Being such a good friend. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

His smile was warmer than the sun and a slight flush crept over his jaw and cheekbones. He was so handsome. Her heart clenched in her chest, filled with an unrequited longing that she was certain she would never, ever be rid of.

“I’m glad I could be there for you last night, Pen. You shouldn't have to go through something like that by yourself.”

“I got overwhelmed,” Penelope felt the need to explain herself. To reassure him, and maybe herself, that her meltdown had been a one time thing brought on by a litany of stressful events. “I haven’t had a panic attack like that for years.”

She didn’t tell him about Prudence’s demands or the news that the police had delivered about her dad. Even now, after he had caused their utter and complete ruin, she was still discovering terrible secrets that her father had hidden from all of them. She didn’t want Colin to know the full extent of how fucked up her family was. She feared his disdain or, even worse, his pity.

“You’re under an incredible amount of stress,” Colin said, empathetically. “It’s normal to feel overwhelmed, but you don’t have to bear it all yourself. Not while I’m here. I’ll always be here for you, you know? You’re special to me.”

Penelope felt tears welling up in her eyes again. “You’re special to me, too, Colin.”

He kissed her forehead and they stayed like that for a moment, locked in an embrace. Then he said, “Have you eaten? Are you hungry?”

For him? Always.

But then Penelope recalled that she had skipped lunch and dinner yesterday. Now that the stress was gone, she realised she was ravenous.

“I could eat,” Penelope said, demurely.

“Do you want to stay here with me? Have lunch together? I have paperwork to handle, but I’d love some company.”

“Lunch sounds good,” she replied. “I brought my new laptop. I can do some work here, too, if you don’t mind.”

“Perfect.”

It was. Penelope didn’t want to go back to the flat and be alone. The memory of the previous evening filled her with an echo of anxiety. She’d survived the panic attack, but felt vulnerable and clingy, wanting to stick to Colin’s side like glue.

Colin sent an order to the kitchens. It arrived quickly, delivered by another member of staff, who looked curiously at Penelope sitting across from Colin, sharing his desk space. Her laptop was the same model as his own and the sight of the two computers butted up against each other in the middle of his desk secretly thrilled her in a way she couldn’t describe.

Colin had arranged a feast brought to her from the kitchen: baba ghanoush and fragrant laffa bread; crispy potatoes; yellowfin tuna crudo; charred octopus and lamb belly; and a colourful greek salad, served with an earthy goat’s cheese.

“It’s delicious,” Penelope said, completely unsurprised by that fact. She knew Colin had spent a tremendous amount of effort recruiting a talented head chef and capable kitchen staff. The food was undoubtedly quality.

Her praise elicited a grin from him that was boyish, reminding her of their younger days. “I’m glad you approve.”

“I’d eat here everyday if I could afford it,” she said, without thinking. She flushed, realising what she’d just voiced aloud, but Colin let the remark pass without comment.

She devoured her food, taking bites of everything and marvelling at how good it all was. As she bit into the laffa bread, Penelope noticed Colin watching her. Hastily she brushed at the crumbs on her chin, embarrassed that he’d caught her being such a messy eater.

They finished their food and Colin cleared their plates. A comfortable quiet settled between them as they returned to their respective work. The sound of papers rustling and Penelope’s fingers flying over her keyboard filled the office.

It was nice to work with someone else in the room. Penelope paused in her typing and pulled out her diary, jotting down notes. Colin made a frustrated grunt, rifling through some invoices. She looked up at the sound of his nails drumming on the tabletop, an agitating habit he loathed when he realised he was doing it.

She reached over and touched his knuckles with her fingertips. Immediately he stopped, linking his fingers with hers.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

Penelope squeezed his hand. They stayed that way for a few minutes, holding hands across the desk.

She was so very glad she’d decided to come by to see him. Nothing in her life these days made her feel secure—but Colin was the single, shining exception.

🎀 🎀 🎀

A lovely cloud of relief and safety followed Penelope around for the rest of the weekend.

She finished up her assignment on Sunday afternoon, leaving the final edit for the following morning. She wanted it to be as perfect as it could be when she submitted it, a luxury she could afford thanks to the extension to the deadline.

For now, a bath seemed like a good idea. Colin would be home tonight and she wanted to greet him in a refreshed state. To her surprise, she had barely begun to soak when she heard the sound of the lift doors swooshing open.

He was back early. It was barely six in the evening. A thrill coursed down her spine as she heard his footsteps in her bedroom, approaching the door of the ensuite. Some hopeful part of her wondered if he had come home early to see her.

“Pen?” His voice came from the other side of the door.

"I’m in the bath, but you can come in," she called out to him, blurting out the words before she really considered them. She heard him pause, startled by the invitation. "I'm covered in bubbles.”

Penelope held her breath.

It took him a minute or so to decide and she thought perhaps he would reject the idea. But then the handle turned and the door opened slowly to reveal Colin's head.

"Are you sure it's okay?" he asked.

She nodded, sinking a little deeper into the thick layer of glistening foam in the tub.

Colin opened the door further and slipped into the room.

"That is a lot of bubbles," he smiled.

She was completely covered, but she felt a little shy when his eyes traced over her red curls piled high on her head and the bare skin of her neck and shoulders.

He cleared his throat and cast his eye around the bathroom, taking in the enormous bag of epsom salts she’d gotten on sale from Tesco and hauled back to the flat last week so that she could turn the bathroom into a sanctum of tranquillity. Tea lights flickered on the bathroom counter and Norah Jones’ sultry voice spilled out of her mini portable speaker sitting on the window ledge.

“This scene is missing something,” Colin said.

Penelope inclined her head. “Missing something?”

He grinned at her, “Hang on,” and slipped back out the door.

He returned a few moments later, holding a glass of champagne out to her.

Penelope melted inwardly. She looked at him with wide eyes. “What, no chocolate covered strawberries?”

Colin nodded. “Right. I’ll be back in twenty.”

She wiggled her fingers for the champagne glass, amused. “I think I can make do without. But only this once.”

“Magnanimous of you.”

“Thank you,” she said, reaching out to take the glass from him. “How was work?”

Colin made a face that told her everything. “Did you finish your paper?”

She nodded.

“Good girl.”

Oh.

It wasn’t fair for him to look so handsome and to say things like that to her while she was naked and wet and susceptible to wayward thoughts. Not fair at all.

“Enjoy your bath. I’m going to change out of this—” he gestured at his shirt, and Penelope noticed for the first time that there was a dried wine stain down the front of it.

“Don’t ask,” he said dryly. “I brought us dinner. Thought maybe we could eat it over a movie.”

“Sounds great,” she agreed.

He backed out of the bathroom, closing the door gently behind him.

Penelope sipped the champagne slowly. It was tart and buttery and she loved it. She loved everything that Colin chose for her.

She got out of the bath and did a quick rinse in the shower. She threw on a loungewear set, not bothering with a bra, and padded out into the living area.

Colin was already in the kitchen in dark navy pyjamas and wet hair. He handed her a bowl with a generous serving of creamy dan dan noodles, crispy pan fried pork dumplings, and a fresh glass of champagne.

Penelope picked a romantic period drama that she had heard good things about. The main character, a shy wallflower bullied by society, travelled back in time to seek revenge on those that had wronged her.

“She should just let that guy marry her cousin,” Colin said, forty minutes into the first episode.

“No, he’s going to fall in love with her this time,” Penelope predicted.

“Oh God, really?” Colin asked incredulously. “She could do better than him.”

Four episodes into their binge, their empty bowls sat on the coffee table, they had finished the bottle of champagne and were on their second bottle of wine. Colin was stretched out across the sofa, Penelope lying comfortably on top of him as they stared at the television in avid attention. She felt lovely, her body softened by her bath and the wine. Her lips felt a little numb and her limbs were loose and heavy in the most pleasant way.

On the screen, things were getting steamy between the wallflower and her love interest in a carriage. Penelope stared unblinkingly as the handsome man slid his hand under the young lady’s skirts and the heroine gasped prettily. Perhaps Penelope would have been mortified if not for the alcohol in her system, but instead, when she dared to chance a peek up at Colin, he met her eyes and they both burst into giggles.

Penelope recalled sleepovers at Bridgerton House with Daphne, El, and Fran, when the girls would commandeer the theatre room for a movie night. Colin would insist on joining in, to his sisters’ collective annoyance. When a steamy scene had come on the screen, Colin had kept up a hilarious running commentary about the man’s physique, stamina, and technique until the girls had shrieked in disgust and thrown popcorn at him until the scene was over.

His commentary was decidedly different tonight, however.

“This is way hotter than I expected,” Colin muttered as the female lead moaned and writhed on the screen.

“Mm,” Penelope hummed in agreement. “It’s unrealistic, though.”

“What’s unrealistic?”

“The foreplay. The single-minded focus on her pleasure. It’s unrealistic.”

“Penelope.” Colin somehow managed to convey his dismay and incredulity just in the way he said her name.

“Yeah?”

“Christ, I knew that Debling guy was a twat.”

Penelope blinked at the mention of her old boyfriend. “What?”

“I never liked him.”

Penelope cast her mind back a few years, tallying up all the occasions Alfie had been at a gathering where Colin was present as well. They’d broken up just before their two year anniversary, when Alfie had gotten a grant for a research expedition to Antarctica. Colin had been away travelling during that period and their paths had barely crossed.

“You met him…probably all of two times,” Penelope pointed out.

“Well I knew you were too good for him the moment I met him.”

Penelope opened her mouth as if to argue but shut it again. It was a little galling for Colin to judge her ex-boyfriend without knowing anything about him at all, but hadn’t she thought the same thing about most of the girls that Colin had dated over the years?

“Besides, not all men are like that,” Colin said. “Some of us enjoy making sure our partners' needs are met.”

Of course Colin would be a generous lover.

Penelope couldn’t help it, she made a face.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“No, tell me.”

“It’s just annoying. You’re already tall, devastatingly handsome, successful, and a wonderful friend. Now I have to know you’re generous in bed too?” Penelope poked his shoulder in pretend exasperation. “You’re annoyingly perfect.”

“Devastatingly handsome, huh?”

“Shut up, you know you are.”

Colin toyed with a strand of her hair, his voice quiet and thoughtful, “Is that why you haven’t dated anyone for a while? Because of—”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Colin, but my life is in utter shambles right now.”

He was quiet for a moment, and then he squeezed her waist, lowering his face into her hair and pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. Penelope felt the fleeting pressure of his lips all the way down to her toes.

“Well, maybe I’m selfish, but I’m glad I get to have you all to myself. Even when we were kids Eloise was always barging in on our conversations and dragging you away.”

“I think she’s a little jealous that you and I are roommates.”

“Well, it serves her right. Going off to America and leaving you behind.” His hand on her back slipped under her jumper as he talked, his fingers idly stroking the sensitive skin of her spine.

She wondered if he’d noticed she’d forgone wearing a bra, recalling his earlier request. She was glad she had, glad that there was nothing impeding the long, soothing caresses up and down her back. Penelope suppressed a shudder, hiding her face in the crook of his neck, so that her expression wouldn’t give her away.

“Admit it though, I’m a better roommate than Eloise.”

“Hmm, you are a better cook, I’ll admit that.”

“And more devastatingly handsome, right?”

Penelope rested her chin on the back of her hand where it lay on his chest and pretended to think, “Well, you are the most handsome roommate I’ve ever had.”

Colin laughed, knowing fully well she’d never lived with anyone but her family.

He smiled at her, eyes crinkled, face flushed pink from a combination of delight and the wine they’d drunk.

I love you.

The thought rose up in her mind unbidden and she knew for certain that it was probably written all over her face.

But for once, she didn’t duck or turn her head. She beamed back at him, hoping he could feel every ounce of fondness and affection she held in her heart for him.

“So, what about you?”

“Hmm?”

“You got to ask me questions about my love life,” Penelope pointed out. “Why aren’t you seeing anybody at the moment?”

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Penelope, but my life is also in utter shambles right now. I can’t even make time to go to the dentist for a check-up, let alone date anybody.”

Penelope was saved from having to reply when a loud moan cut through the living room. They both turned their attention back to the TV and watched the heroine writhe and clutch at the male lead’s head between her legs.

Colin’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline and he looked at Penelope, “This is the most action I’ve seen since I opened my restaurant,” he said dryly.

Penelope smothered a laugh and they turned their attention back to the TV.

She found it hard to focus, distracted by how good Colin smelled and how lovely he felt beneath her. Sneakily, she stroked his bicep, marvelling at how firm his muscles were even when he was resting.

God, he was bloody fit. Every part of her was extremely aware of every part of him. Everywhere they touched—from her cheek against his collarbone down to her legs straddling his hips—felt good.

She felt him hitch a breath at something happening in the movie—her eyes returned to the TV to see another sex scene unfolding. The female lead was offscreen, but it was obvious what she was doing from the close up shot of the male lead’s face, scrunched up in pleasure.

Colin was entirely absorbed in the scene. His jaw tensed and his throat bobbed as he swallowed. Penelope wondered if he was being truthful, had it really been over two years since he’d had sex?

The sex scene continued to play on the television and she could not stop herself imagining sliding her hand down his chest, feeling the contours of his body, going further and further down until her fingers reached the part of him that she imagined would be aching for attention. She wondered what he’d feel like. Hard and warm like the rest of him.

How would he react if she did that? Would he stop her, gently reminding her that they were just friends? But it had been so long for him. Would he allow her to keep going?

Would he want her to slip her head beneath the blanket draped over his thighs and use her hands and mouth to give him the relief she knew she could? Penelope felt herself falling deeper and deeper into the fantasy, picturing herself freeing Colin’s cock from his pants…wrapping her hands around it…stroking him, slowly at first, until he pleaded with her to go faster. Bending her head to fasten her lips around the tip, getting her first taste of him.

She’d lick and suck him until she figured out what he liked best, maintaining eye contact the entire time. In her fantasy, she’d let him tangle his fingers into her hair and pull on it as she gave him pleasure and affection.

Everything he deserved for his kindness and generosity, for taking such amazing care of her, and for simply being Colin.

Chapter Text

Colin stared at the empty space where the woodfire oven was supposed to be installed next week, his head blank with disbelief as the contractor informed him that his builder had missed a critical dimension on the plans by fifty millilitres and the oven was not going to fit.

The adjacent banquette was going to need to be cut and shifted and their carpenter was currently away overseas on holiday for four weeks.

Colin pinched the top of his nose and exhaled a long breath in an effort to self soothe, but it was no use.

He was livid.

His eyes snapped open and he fixed a furious gaze on Freddie Cutbill, the builder he’d engaged to oversee the fit-out of Contessa. Colin’s business partners, Stanton and Wilding, had pushed for Colin to hire Cutbill as the builder. Colin had wanted a more established building company, rather than a sole tradesman, but Stanton had vouched for him. Now, three months out from their grand opening date and over eight months into this project, Cutbill was trying to tell him that the opening would likely have to be pushed back by at least a month for this pizza oven issue to be resolved.

His brain caught on to the word “issue”. He thought about all the previous times Cutbill had tried to downplay his careless mistakes without taking accountability, knowing that his old mate Stanton would have his back.

“This is not an issue though, is it, Freddie?” Colin asked, eyes narrowed dangerously. “This is bloody incompetence. It’s actually negligence, if you want to get technical about it.”

Cutbill opened his mouth, but Colin cut him off. “I do not want to hear it. I don’t want to hear one more single fucking excuse coming out of your mouth. We have gone along with all your recommendations, all your contractors, all your suggested suppliers, and all you’ve managed to do is land us in pile after pile of shit.”

“Aww, Col. C’mon,” Cutbill said in a placating tone. “You’re still sore about the tile thing, but that wasn’t my fault, was it?”

Tiles had been ordered for their feature wall from a supplier in Italy. Half the wall had been completed and another batch of tiles was supposed to be on the way. Two weeks ago, they’d found out that the supplier had lied and no tiles were, in fact, on route to London. Now they were left trying to figure out if they could source tiles that were a close enough match or if they had to rip out the entire thing. Another mess, another nightmare for Colin to fix.

No, that hadn’t been Cutbill’s fault, but Colin was in no mood to show him any grace.

Colin felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He ignored it until it stopped.

It immediately started vibrating again.

He took it out to check the screen. He sighed and swiped to answer the call.

“Yeah?”

“You need to get down here,” Rae, his front of house manager said. “A fucking inspector decided to come down during the lunch rush for an inspection and Dunwoody’s going to fillet him if you don’t get down here to stop him.”

“Fuck,” Colin swore. He glared at Cutbill as he put his phone away. “You better find a way to fix this. Or, so help me, God, I’m going to put aside the next two years of my life and devote every ounce of my energy dragging you through arbitration.”

Colin walked out to his car, his heart beating rapidly and his breaths rough and uneven. It was a strange experience to hear Anthony’s words coming out of his mouth these days. But where Anthony always managed to cut people down to size with a few choice words delivered with cool, deadly precision, Colin was prone to lash out with white hot anger, issuing menacing threats and cruel put-downs that he regretted afterwards.

Was it because he had spent so much of his life carefree and beholden to nobody but himself? Unlike Anthony, who had no choice but to become a man and de facto father to most of his siblings, Colin had spent his youth travelling the world and frivolously chasing the perfect beach sunset. Perhaps that was why now, when he was pushing thirty, he was so ill equipped at handling stress. Every crisis thrown at him brought him closer to the brink of losing his grip on himself.

🎀 🎀 🎀

The drive to Ambrosia should have only taken fifteen minutes but, London traffic being what it was, it ended up taking nearly thirty.

He took the front door into the restaurant, ducking and weaving through patrons waiting to be seated and packed tables. He heard the shouting as soon as the doors of the kitchen swung open.

“—are you simple, mate? That’s frozen solid. I am defrosting it under temperature control and checking the water temperature every—”

“You keep it within temperature control by keeping it refrigerated—”

“Well, our supplier messed up our delivery order and we need that meat for tonight’s service. Have you seen the size of that fridge? Do you see how full it is? You think there’s extra space in there to defrost three massive boxes of frozen lamb—do you know how fucking long that would take?”

Colin followed the shouts of his head chef and found him screaming at a younger man dressed in a shirt and light blue vest, hugging a clipboard to his chest and wearing a defiant expression, as an enraged Dunwoody thrust a finger in his face. Colin cast an eye around the kitchen, seeing that most of the kitchen staff were standing still and staring at the spectacle unfolding in front of them. Rae was in the corner, her phone in her hand, recording Dunwoody and the young health inspector.

“Hey,” Colin stepped in between the two men. “Dunwoody, take a walk. Everybody else, am I paying you to stand around and gape? Get back to work. We’ve got hungry customers out there waiting for their lunch.”

Dunwoody glared at him, his face pink and his breaths shallow. For one tense moment, Colin wondered if his volatile head chef was going to take a swing at him. But then, Dunwoody stepped back, untying his apron and throwing it on the kitchen bench.

“Bridgerton, tell this wanker to take his food safety certification and shove it up his arsehole, maybe that’ll loosen it up a bit.”

Dunwoody left. The strained air in the room seemed to relax and the staff turned their attention back to their tasks.

“Colin Bridgerton,” Colin held his hand out. “I’m one of the owners.”

“Theo Sharpe, Food Safety Officer,” Sharpe said primly as he shook Colin’s hand.

“I gathered,” Colin said lightly in an effort to move past the unpleasantness of the altercation he’d walked in on.

Sharpe did not smile. He took a sheet of paper from his clipboard and handed it to Colin. “You’ve passed the inspection. Here are my notes. You will receive a formal notice in the mail within a few days. I’ll return in two weeks for re-inspection.”

Colin took the sheet and glanced at it. When he reached the bottom, his head snapped up, but Sharpe was already walking away.

“Excuse—excuse me, Mr Sharpe!”

Theo stopped, turning to face him wearily.

“I think you made a mistake,” Colin said, holding up the sheet of paper. “You’ve given us a level four rating.”

“No, I have not made a mistake. Based on the results of today’s inspection, it was an appropriate reflection of—”

“We’ve maintained a level five rating since we opened two years ago.”

“Well, there’s clearly room for some improvement—”

“No, there’s been some mistake, let me take you through again and show you—”

“I’ve seen enough, Mr Bridgerton,” Sharpe interrupted him. “Mr Dunwoody has already tried to plead his case and if you disagree with my findings, you have the right to appeal—”

“Well, of course I’m going to appeal,” Colin snapped. “This restaurant is in impeccable condition and Dunwoody runs a tight ship—”

“I’ve heard enough about how Mr Dunwoody runs his kitchen for today,” Sharpe said coolly, cutting him off once again. “As I said, if you disagree, you can appeal.”

With that, Sharpe left.

Colin stormed back out into the dining room. He ducked behind the bar where Rae was checking drink orders.

“How did our food safety rating fall to a level four?” Colin demanded.

“That prick came in looking for food code breaches,” Rae said. “He’s been a public servant for all of five minutes and has something to prove.”

“This is bullshit,” Colin said in disbelief. “It's complete and utter bollocks. Level four?”

“Fife is upstairs, by the way,” Rae said, impassively. “He’s opened a tab for the table and it’s currently creeping up to two grand.”

“What?” Colin leaned over to stare at the display monitor and gaped incredulously at the list of drinks. “Rae, I thought we talked about this. He doesn’t get to open a bloody tab—”

“He’s technically one of my bosses, Colin,” Rae raised one eyebrow. “How am I supposed to tell the guy that pays my paycheck we’re not allowed to serve him in his own restaurant?”

“I’m the managing director,” Colin growled. “How am I supposed to run this place properly when these arseholes keep running up thousand pound tabs and refusing to pay them?”

Rae didn’t reply but, of course, he didn’t really expect her to. She picked up a tray filled with drinks and left him there, fuming.

Colin jabbed hard at the print button and snatched up the invoice that the printer spat out. He stalked through the dining room and jogged up the stairs into the private dining room, where he found Fife, three sheets to the wind, holding court over the bevvy of Instagram influencers and freeloaders that usually followed him wherever he went.

The scene caused the simmering anger inside him to spill over and Colin slammed the slip of paper on the table in front of Fife.

The laughter and conversation died abruptly.

“The bar’s closed, Fife,” Colin hissed into his surprised face. “Either pay the tab or get the hell out.”

He spun on his heel and left before Fife could reply. He walked straight out of the restaurant and got back into his car.

He slammed the door shut and sat there unmoving, breathing hard.

“Fuck!” Colin exploded. He slammed his palm repeatedly on the steering wheel. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!!!!”

He sat there for another minute, trying to get his emotions back in check and failing miserably.

He needed to walk this mood off.

It was an overcast and gloomy day, but at least there wasn’t any rain. He climbed out of the car and walked down the busy streets, blending into the busy weekday crowd made up of tourists, office workers out on their lunch break, and cliques of young mothers pushing prams.

Colin was fully aware that Fife, Wilding, and Stanton had gotten into business with him so that they had bragging rights about owning a trendy restaurant. He did not expect Fife to roll up his shirt sleeves and get his hands dirty, but to not even call Colin and give him a heads up that there was a food inspection taking place was infuriating.

Storming out hadn’t been the most mature response and he knew he should have controlled himself better. Fife was going to be furious at the scene Colin had just caused, if he weren’t too drunk to remember the whole incident.

He knew he ought to go back and smooth things over. He needed to figure out what he was going to do about the bloody level four food hygiene rating.

But his nerves were frayed and he’d spent too many days bottling up his frustrations at how difficult this project was becoming, how tediously slow the whole process was.

Colin needed a break from it all. If only for a little while. He continued walking, aimlessly, lost in his own moody thoughts.

Was the fault his own?

Had he been too ambitious?

Ambrosia had come together much more quickly under Anthony’s guidance. Colin had fought for the opportunity to take the lead on Contessa, wanting to prove himself capable to his successful older brother. He hadn’t realised just how difficult it would be and how much support Anthony had provided. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but he would have to tough it out.

The confidence he’d begun with had started to wane. Fifty percent of restaurants failed in their first year. It was a statistic he’d heard a million times, one he’d beaten already and had been sure he would beat again.

If he failed now, he’d never be able to look his brother—or anyone—in the eye again.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. Colin had half a mind to ignore it. Maybe it was Fife, chewing him out. Or Rae, with some other bad news he didn’t have the capacity to deal with.

But when he fished his phone out and looked at the notification, he saw Penelope’s name and his heart did a little flip.

He checked her message and saw that she’d sent him a photo of his pristine kitchen counter with a bowl of flour sitting on it.

Was she cooking? Baking?

He sent off a curious, what’s this?

Penelope didn’t respond right away. A few minutes passed before he received her followup text: A little surprise 😊

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth and some of the anger and stress suffocating him faded away. For a moment, he considered calling her, just so he could hear her voice. He wanted to know what she was making for him, he wanted to know how she had spent her day. Had she eaten yet? Was she lonely? Was she thinking about her dad? Was there anything he could bring home for her?

Colin was aware that this restless, gnawing, agitated obsession that he had developed over Penelope since she had moved in with him was not healthy. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. Whenever he had a spare moment, he found his mind turning to her.

The way he fretted over her was not the same as the heartburn inducing stress he was experiencing with work. No, this was different in a way he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Every time the memory of returning home to find her curled up into a tiny, inconsolable ball on the balcony rose up in his mind, his hands reflexively clenched into fists.

When he thought of the way she had looked up at him after he had told her she could come and stay with him, after she had received her new laptop, after she called him devastatingly handsome—

Well, who could blame him for becoming addicted to finding ways to please Penelope?

Her wellbeing and happiness wasn’t just a wish, it had become a very pressing need.

A jogger brushed past him and he realised he had nearly slowed to a stop while frowning down at his phone. Looking up, Colin found himself standing in front of a spa. He watched, his mind a million miles away, as two ladies stepped out the front doors with glowing skin, emanating an aura of blissed out tranquillity that brought to mind the spas he’d frequented during his visit to Bali.

Seized by sudden whimsy and an ache for those peaceful days, Colin stepped inside. A minimalist, white reception area greeted him. The air was scented with eucalyptus and something citrusy and he felt the space between his shoulder blades loosen. There was a small fountain behind the unattended reception desk and shelves filled with products that invited him to take a closer look.

Penelope would love it here, he thought, as he perused the neatly ordered body scrubs and lotions. She had liked and commented on every single one of the photos he’d posted on that Bali trip. There had been so many times he had wished she had been there with him—her enthusiasm had added to his experience, motivating him to fill every minute with even more activities. Upon his return, Colin had offered to bring her with him next time, only for her to decline with a sad, regretful smile.

He hadn’t known back then just how bad things were for the Featheringtons. He’d been mystified by her reaction, thinking his offer was nothing out of the ordinary—after all, hadn’t Penelope come along with his family on countless holidays? He wondered what he had done wrong, wondered if he’d offended her somehow.

Eloise had been the one to tell him that Penelope’s family was in dire financial straits and she’d made him promise to keep it a secret.

Well, the cat was out of the bag now.

He indulged himself in picturing himself bringing Penelope to this spa for a reprieve from the demands of both their lives, if only just for a few hours. He imagined Penelope in a fluffy white bathrobe, her face soft and relaxed, eyes drowsy with contentment as she sipped ginger tea. Unbidden, his mind supplanted the image with one he’d seen recently…the tea turned into a champagne glass and the robe became a mound of frothy bubbles…and beneath it, Penelope reclined in a bathtub, the wet tendrils of her brilliant hair clinging to her neck, her skin wet and smooth and pink from the hot water.

Colin blinked away the pleasing but inappropriate mental image of Penelope in the bath, reminding himself for the hundredth time not to cross the boundaries he’d set out for himself. It wasn’t the first time his thoughts had veered into a decidedly improper direction when it came to his small, redheaded friend, but lately he’d found it happening more and more often.

Especially after she’d kissed him in his office. His body reacted to the memory, stomach tensing pleasantly as the tips of his ears warmed. It was just a thank you—and had been so brief it barely counted as a kiss—but, nevertheless, he found himself returning to the memory of it time and time again, intrigued by the softness of her lips and the scent of her hair. His eyes were drawn to her whenever she was in the same room, as if she were a magnet, hyper aware of the proximity of her body to his.

Penelope was the one bright spot in the current overworked hellscape of his life. He looked forward to going home every day knowing she was there, in his too-large flat, keeping the solitude at bay.

He ought to go home now. She was there, planning a surprise. Maybe he could convince her to cuddle with him again, watch a movie, and fall asleep together.

A voice broke into his thoughts, interrupting his apprehensive spiral.

“Hello!”

Colin turned to find a young woman had materialised beside him. She was dressed in buff-coloured scrubs and her name badge read Dolores.

“Can I help you?”

What was he doing again?

His eyes darted across the shelves before him and he said, slowly, “I wanted to get a few things as a gift for a friend.”

Yes. He’d buy some stuff. That seemed like a good idea. He could bring the spa to her.

“Of course,” Dolores chirped. “Do you have an idea of what she would like?”

He regarded the shelves thoughtfully. “She loves baths. So, maybe a jar of those bath salts. And a body scrub? And a body soap and lotion set. And some massage oils maybe?”

Dolores pointed out some of their best sellers. As she talked, Colin’s gaze caught on a row of skincare products. The elegant green boxes with a splash of blush pink across the middle were instantly recognisable.

He recalled Penelope’s tiny jar of moisturiser that she’d regretted finishing and having to throw away.

He thought about how hard she had worked, scrimping and saving to try and help her family, only to be betrayed by her own father and for her home to be taken away.

He thought about what a kind, clever, and warm woman she was and how she deserved so much and how it was almost criminal that she received so little in return.

Even her dull bore of an ex-boyfriend hadn’t bothered to ensure that she had a good time in bed.

Tosser.

“I think I’ll get her some skincare, as well,” Colin said impulsively, nodding at the wall of green boxes.

Dolores followed his gaze and beamed. “Of course, the Crème de la Mer is very popular.”

He ended up purchasing the whole set: face wash, serum, moisteriser, night cream, and an eye concentrate, too. What was the use of spoiling her if he did it in half measures?

“She must be a very good friend,” Dolores said wistfully, as she wrapped and packed up his purchases carefully into an enormous bag.

“The very best,” Colin smiled as he handed his credit card over.

Dolores added a candle into the bag as a freebie. “You know, we do gift vouchers here, as well,” she said with a sly smile.

Captivated by the idea of Penelope coming home to him from a spa day, her soft body on top of his, melting into him, Colin nodded and requested a gift voucher for Penelope.

“She’s a lucky girl,” Dolores sighed, sounding more than a little envious as Colin handed his credit card over for the second time.

I’m the lucky one, Colin thought. Growing up, he had always sought out her company and loved drawing her into conversations so he could listen to her take on things. Penelope had always felt a little mysterious and unknowable to him. She was introverted and reserved, but now that Colin had so much more access to her, every time she revealed more of herself to him felt like a hard won victory.

He made his way home, deciding not to return to Ambrosia until morning, with a fresh brain and renewed energy to deal with the messes waiting for him. Right now, he wanted to see Penelope…to surround himself in her warm, supportive presence. Regardless of the circumstances, he felt like he was getting just as much as she was out of their living arrangements, if not more. He wondered how she would react to his gifts. He wanted to see her light up again, to reach for him like she had in his office.

Gifts in hand, Colin arrived at the flat and let himself in. There was a slight bounce to his step, a silly little excitement that he couldn’t tamp down. He walked into the living room with a smile, hoping Penelope would like the things he had chosen for her.

But all his hopes of a cosy evening were dashed when he walked into the living room and found Penelope staring down at her phone, her face pale and pinched in distress.

Chapter Text

“I just don’t understand,” Philippa wheedled for the hundredth time, her tone small and pitiful, “What are the police saying about dad? And when are we going to know for sure?”

Penelope closed her eyes and pressed her knuckles against her eyelids. A pounding headache gathered at the base of her skull, growing increasingly painful as the call went on.

It took her a few moments to form a response.

“It’s still preliminary,” she forced out, reiterating DI Hardy’s words. They were dry as dust in her throat, threatening to choke her. “The investigation is ongoing.”

“Well, what does that even mean?” Prudence asked, both petulant and agitated. “None of this makes any sense to me!”

She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t repeat everything DI Hardy had told her, not again.

It was confirmed, the evidence uncontestable. Her father had been dealing drugs. Mostly to some old friends that he was still in contact with: leaders of industry and government officials, men who enjoyed a little recreational drug use, perhaps needing a rush to get them through their dull, monotonous lives. Her father had been in business with a crime lord known as Dicky Greer; who had found out Archie had been cheating him out of his profits a few days before his disappearance.

So, DI Hardy surmised that either her father was in hiding or…more likely, he was currently feeding the fish in the Thames.

Hardy hadn’t said that to her, not in those exact words, but she could read between the lines.

“How could dad have been a dealer? There must be some mix-up. Dad spent most of his time at the racetracks,” Philippa continued. “Plus he and his friends are old. Why would they want drugs?”

“Are you trying to say that old people don’t do drugs?” Prudence asked, incredulously, just as a particular scent wafted into Penelope’s nostrils.

She muted her end of the call, cursing as she ran to the kitchen. The smell of burning biscuits penetrated the air, sickly and charred. Penelope’s stomach heaved as she turned off the oven and yanked the door open. Smoke hissed out. She slammed it shut again. The last thing she needed was for the state-of-the-art fire alarm system to go off.

Her sisters’ angry voices continued to bicker in the living room, each word drilling into her skull. They were arguing over who would call their mum and update her on the latest developments in the case. At least she wouldn’t have to do that part, Penelope thought, staring at her fingers.

She walked slowly back into the living room, sitting heavily onto the sofa. A shiver left her longing to wrap herself into the blanket draped across the back of the sofa, but she didn’t think it would do any good.

Exhaustion, anger, and helplessness rippled through her. She wanted to hang up and crawl into bed to hide from the world.

Things had seemed alright that morning. She’d spent an hour organising her meagre closet whilst lamenting the state of a large majority of her clothes. The mean, bitchy pool of girls at work never let her forget that she dressed like an accountant who hated her job. She hadn’t the time to be concerned with something as unimportant as her clothing for the majority of the last few years, but now her dull wardrobe filled with black and neutral coloured clothing seemed sadder than ever when hung neatly in the glamorous walk-in closet Colin had bestowed upon her.

When she’d had enough of sulking over something she couldn’t readily change, Penelope went into Colin’s pristine kitchen and set about baking biscuits. The idea had struck her on a whim, and it had seemed like such a good one—Colin loved homemade biscuits and she was glad to finally be able to do something for him for a change.

Her mood had been destroyed by a call from DI Hardy, bringing her back to the reality of things: her father was a drug dealer and was probably dead, her family had fallen apart, and her sisters would not stop fighting.

“You could call her when you ask her about the flowers,” Philippa’s voice said, insistently. “You’re gonna call her for that anyway.”

“I can’t do that!” Prudence snapped shrilly. “She’ll be too upset to discuss anything once I tell her!”

Penelope’s finger paused just above the unmute button, stomach clenching. She heard the sound of the lift opening and felt as though she were submerged in a bad dream, head turning to watch Colin enter the room holding a large shopping bag.

He smiled at her, but the smile fell when she didn’t return it, and his expression turned serious as he realised she was on the phone.

“Why can’t Penelope just call mum?”

“Mum is furious with her, that’s why,” hissed Prudence. “How many times do I have to remind you—”

“I know, but I just don’t get it,” Philippa sounded cross now, with a touch of something that might be envy. “So what if she’s living with Colin Bridgerton, he’s loaded, it’s not like she’s suffering—”

Penelope bit her lip and looked away, down at her phone, swallowed up by humiliation. Her sisters had a tendency to talk about her like she wasn’t even there.

“They’ve always taken her on holidays and getaways,” sniped Prudence. “You’d think she was a part of their family and not ours.”

“She’d rather be a Bridgerton,” said Philippa in agreement.

That hurt. She couldn’t bear to look at Colin and see what kind of expression he was wearing on his face.

Her family was a mess, unlike his. Years of spending summer holidays with Eloise and the Bridgertons had hammered home the difference between their family and hers: loving and generous on one hand…dysfunctional and petty on the other. It wasn’t as though Colin didn’t know, of course he knew, but having it on display in front of him like this made the sting more potent than ever.

Prudence and Philippa had entered into a shouting match over who was suffering the most. Penelope ought to get up and go to her room. There was no reason to subject Colin to this, to the worst parts of her family, the petty squabbling and blame slinging.

The Bridgertons grew stronger when conflicts arose; they worked together to overcome difficulties. The Featheringtons fell apart, too concerned with their own dramas to overcome anything.

She knew these thoughts were ugly, knew that her sisters were also scared and hurt. They were just as lost as she was. But a tight knot of anger built inside her nevertheless, furious at being called disloyal, as though she hadn’t spent the last few years working herself to the bone to keep their family afloat. She dug her fingers into her lap, fully aware of Colin sitting next to her, watching her, knowing—

A hand slipped over hers, wrapping itself around her fingers. Colin squeezed. She felt it deep inside, like he had just squeezed her heart. It did a little flip when she lifted her eyes to look at him and she felt a warm tingle spread from her fingertips into the rest of her body, easing the anxiety that held her as tense as a tightrope.

Penelope exhaled and pressed unmute.

“Let’s hold off on telling Mum,” she said, cutting into Pru’s diatribe about her pending nuptials. “Things are inconclusive right now…I think we should update her when there’s a solid lead on Dad’s whereabouts.”

Philippa and Prudence started talking all at once, over each other, covering their relief with indignation and more arguing. A surge of guilt consumed Penelope as she realised that perhaps she ought to have kept DI Hardy’s update to herself. But she had been alone and the pressure had been too great, she’d just wanted to unburden herself just a little…

“We’ll talk later,” she told her sisters and ended the call before her resolve wavered.

Colin’s arm wrapped around Penelope’s shoulder. She leaned back against him, grateful for his sturdy weight next to her. She had barely begun to breathe again when her phone started ringing once more.

“It’s my mum,” she said, hesitantly.

“Christ,” Colin said sympathetically. “I am going run you a bath. I have a feeling you’re going to need it after this call.” He got up, squeezing her shoulder warmly, and Penelope flashed him a quick, grateful smile.

She answered the call, not using her speaker this time and said cautiously, “Mum?”

“I received a call from the DI,” said her mother immediately, sounding far too cavalier about the matter. “Did they ask you to go in for questioning? I hope you haven’t said anything to the police about this.”

Penelope paused. A thought occurred to her, gnawing at her already unsettled stomach.

Had Portia Featherington run to Ireland to avoid the rest of the investigation because she was involved? Did her mother know about her father’s dealings with the unsavoury drug world? Was she, too, a participant? Penelope swallowed down the bile that threatened to come up, her mind racing through the possibilities.

Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Mum, did you already know?”

“This is the first time we’ve spoken in a month and that is what you ask me?” Portia demanded. There was hurt in her voice, behind the anger, but Penelope couldn’t take the words back now.

“Did you know, mum?”

“I know nothing about what your father was doing,” Portia snapped. “I would never jeopardise the safety of my family, of my daughters—”

“But—”

“Are you accusing me of being—”

“I’m not accusing you anything, Mum, I just—”

“This is unbelievable!” Portia exploded. “My own daughter, interrogating me!”

“I’m not!” Penelope said, in an attempt to placate her mother. “I’m sorry, I’m just….it’s a shock.”

That seemed to calm Portia down enough for her to stop shouting. She snapped, in a much more needling tone, “Yes, it is a shock. I wish you were here with me right now.”

The stab of guilt that Penelope felt was swiftly followed by helpless irritation. “You know why I had to stay, mum.”

“And you are still determined to stay in London?”

“Mum. My job is here.”

Portia was terse. “Are you staying for the job or is it something else?”

Penelope bit her lip to keep from saying something she would regret.

That old refrain stuck to her flesh like a stubborn thorn, refusing to be pulled out. Do you think they actually care about you? You’re their little pet, their charity case. Even though she knew it wasn’t true, even though she knew Colin and Eloise loved her, her mother’s voice still echoed through her head sometimes.

“It’s the job, Mum,” Penelope said, reigning in her temper. “It’s important to me.”

She did not say anything else, because what would be the point? She wouldn’t leave London and her mother would never understand her friendship with Colin Bridgerton.

You’re wasting your time trying to catch him.

Silence radiated down the line, imbued with such disapproval Penelope could feel it permeating her bones.

“Fine,” Portia said, curtly. “Just don’t go around telling people about this. Not even your precious Bridgertons. Be smart, Penelope.” The call ended abruptly.

She sat there in silence as all that she had learned sunk in. She was suddenly hit with a wall of shame and disgust that left her nauseated. Her father had dealt drugs to feed his gambling habit. None of that money had gone into paying off the debts, all of it he’d kept for himself. And when that hadn’t been enough, he’d started to steal from a mobster.

And he’d likely paid for it with his life.

God, she hated him.

“Pen?”

Her head snapped up. Colin had come back into the room. He watched her with concern and worry etched all over his handsome face.

She couldn’t imagine what she looked like to him, sitting on his sofa staring out blankly into space.

What a mess she was.

He probably pitied her. She thought, hollowly. Poor Pen, with her awful, terrible family.

She could only imagine what he’d think of her if he found out about her drug dealing thief of a father.

She stared down at her lap and choked back a sob.

“Pen?”

She shook her head and looked up to find him standing beside her. He took her by the elbows, guiding her to her feet. “Come on.”

As they passed the kitchen, Penelope sucked in a breath, recalling suddenly—“I burned your biscuits. I’m sorry.”

Something flickered in his gaze. “My biscuits?”

“I was baking when—when DI Hardy called. Then my sisters. I got distracted and—” She shook her head. “Sorry. I’ll clean it up—”

“I’ll do it,” he said, firmly. “You’re taking a bath.”

“But—”

“Bath,” he insisted. “Come on, Pen.”

“Colin—”

But he won out in the end, ushering into her ensuite and telling her to take her clothes off and get into the bath before he returned with a glass of champagne for her.

The hot, bubbly water was panacea to her shaky arms and legs. She sank into it with relief, feeling her muscles slowly loosen. Her eyes landed on some unfamiliar bottles lining the sink vanity counter and she wondered where they had come from, but she was distracted by the sound of Colin’s footsteps approaching the door.

“You alright in there?”

“Yeah,” Pen called out.

“I’m coming in,” he said and, true to his word, he had an uncorked bottle of champagne in one hand and a glass in the other. He crossed the threshold, still in his work clothes, and Penelope felt a flicker of guilt that he was taking care of her instead of relaxing.

She took a large gulp to keep herself from doing something stupid, like breaking down into tears.

Colin asked gently, “DI Hardy called?”

Penelope nodded, her gut twisting unpleasantly again. “He still hasn’t found my dad.” She told Colin.

That wasn’t a lie. She reassured herself.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

He sounded so sincere, so eager to be helpful. Penelope opened her mouth and, in a moment of sheer desperation, or perhaps insanity, she asked him not to leave. She didn’t want to be by herself right now.

“Stay,” she pleaded. “Please. I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts.”

His eyes softened. He nodded and carefully shifted aside the folded towel laying on the bench to make room for himself. Colin sat facing her, in his socks and slacks and half-buttoned oxford shirt, bottle in his lap.

She held out the glass. Colin took it, downing the rest of the glass before refilling it.

Penelope had never taken a bath with another person in the room before, but it was strangely not weird at all to have Colin there.

“Tell me about your day,” she requested, desperate to keep her mind off thoughts of her father.

“It was stressful,” he shrugged. “But it always is. Nothing new.”

He told her about the surprise inspection at his restaurant and his plans to appeal the rating. Penelope luxuriated in listening to him, loving the sound of his voice in the spacious bathroom, the way it bounced off the tiles and enveloped her in soothing warmth like the bubbly water she sat in.

Tension leaked away from her muscles, aided by the copious amounts of champagne she was imbibing. When she finished one glass, Colin poured her another, taking a sip of his own before handing it over.

By the time the water started growing cold, they had finished the bottle and Penelope was pleasantly buzzed. She yawned.

His brow crinkled. “Have you eaten, Pen?”

“Nah. Biscuits for dinner, remember?”

He studied her glowing pink face and her tipsy smile. “Can you get out on your own?”

“Are you implying I’m drunk, Mr Bridgerton?”

“Absolutely wasted,” he replied.

“You’d be right,” she confirmed, feeling her head spin delightfully. “Thank god I’m not in the bath alone, drunk as a daisy.”

There was a pause. Colin regarded her, as if gauging how likely it was she’d slip and break her neck. She drank the rest of the liquid left in her glass, quite certain she was about to be cut off by her personal bartender.

“Very lucky indeed,” Colin responded. “C’mon. Let’s get you out of that bath. I’ll sort out some dinner for us.”

“Dinner sounds good.”

“Anything in particular you want to eat?”

She shook her head before laying it on her folded arms atop the rim of the bath. “You choose. I love it when you choose what I eat. I love how you take care of me. Nobody has ever taken care of me like you do.” Her voice came out dreamy and a little flirty.

She watched his cheeks pinken as he gazed at her with a fascinated expression. “You love it when I take care of you?” he asked.

How could he even doubt it? Silly man.

Penelope nodded and smiled up at him, “I do. I’m going to be so sad when I have to move out. You’ve been spoiling me rotten.”

“No, I haven’t,” Colin said, his voice low and his smile indulgent. “I haven’t even begun to spoil you rotten.”

Penelope felt a pleasant shiver run through her body at the way his words sounded like a promise. He stood up. She felt a moment of panic that he was leaving her, but he merely unfolded the towel on the bench next to him and held out a hand to her.

Oh.

She didn’t stop to think, she slid her hand into his, letting him help her to her feet, and she was immediately grateful for the assistance because her head spun dizzyingly as soon as she was upright.

Clever Colin, knowing her tolerance limits, knowing exactly when she’d had a bit too much. He always knew. He’d taken care of her at weddings and parties and maybe she’d overindulged on a few occasions with this specific knowledge in mind—that he’d be there, protecting her. It was her own shameful little secret.

Colin was ready with the towel and immediately wrapped it around her, securing the end between her shoulder blades. Everything felt wonderful and fuzzy with Colin’s strong arms around her and, in that moment, her family troubles felt very far away.

“Careful,” he said, as she wrapped her arms around his neck in a fierce hug, inhibitions thrown to the wind. His voice was right in her ear, deep and affectionate, and she was suddenly very aware that she was naked save for a towel and pressed up against his hard body.

“Thanks,” she murmured, pulling her head back to gaze up at him.

He looked back down at her with those remarkable eyes of his—so kind and so uniquely Colin. She’d never seen a better pair of eyes on any other man. Her legs felt like they’d liquified and she clung to him for balance, ignoring the little voice in her head that scolded her for taking advantage of his caring nature.

“I should have fed you first,” he said, his chest rumbling with his rueful mutter. “Let’s get you some water.”

Penelope clutched his shoulders, loving how strong and wide they were. Tingles travelled down her spine as he wrapped both arms tightly around her waist and lifted her cleanly out of the tub—her stomach swooped as she was suspended for a split second in the air—then he set her down on her feet, carefully holding her upright. Her head swam.

She didn’t want to let go. She didn’t want food. She wanted to be held like this, by him, for as long as she could. He took such good care of her and she wanted nothing more than to feel safe, to feel protected, in this cocoon of warm water and Colin’s arms, where nothing of the outside world could touch her. She ached for it.

“Colin,” Penelope sighed, knowing she shouldn’t allow herself to sound so weak and helpless. It wasn’t fair. It was selfish. But she did it anyway, burrowing her face into his chest, her voice dropping an octave lower, “I’m dizzy.”

“Let’s get you into bed, Pen.”

She made a distressed little noise, and begged, “Don’t go.”

“It’s okay,” Colin murmured, stroking her back. “I won’t let you go.”

Was that a promise?

“Promise.”

She felt herself being lifted and carried, and then gently laid into the familiar softness of her bed.

“I’ll always look after you, Pen,” he said, as her eyes grew heavy and her sense of reality floated away. “Always.”

Chapter Text

[From Penelope at 7:12AM]

Colin, I think you left some skincare stuff in my bathroom last night. I’ll put it back in your bedroom.

[From Colin at 7:18AM]

They’re for you. I didn’t get a chance to give them to you last night.

[From Penelope at 7:19AM]

????????

Are you joking?

[From Colin at 7:20AM]

…no?

[From Penelope at 7:20AM]

🫠

[From Colin at 7:25AM]

😙

🎀 🎀 🎀

Penelope stared at her work computer screen, unable to focus on work. It wasn’t the mild hangover that distracted her. Not at all.

Her mind was filled with Colin, Colin, Colin.

She’d fallen asleep after he’d helped her out of the bathroom and into bed. A flush spread over her face at the memory—he’d brushed her forehead with a kiss and she’d closed her eyes to savour the feeling, managing to murmur goodnight before she’d drifted helplessly into inebriated sleep. Perhaps it had been his promises to always take care of her that had kept the nightmares she was resigned to having at bay.

Instead of dreaming of her father or her family, she’d dreamt of Colin.

In the morning, Penelope awoke to see that he’d left her a fresh glass of water and an ibuprofen on her nightstand. Then she saw what he’d left on her bathroom counter—La bloody Mer—and she almost burst into tears.

She was truly overwhelmed by this level of attentiveness and care. He’d done so much for her. Far more than he reasonably should have. She didn’t deserve him.

It frightened her a little. Deep inside, she nursed hope that she’d known was futile at best. Colin had so thoroughly friendzoned her, she’d known better than to even dream of anything more. She’d been content with what they shared—a connection that continued to exist despite the ebbs and flows of life. Due to her own complicated feelings for him, their friendship tended to subside during the months of absence when he went abroad or when he was dating someone new, but they always picked back up again when he returned, tanned from foreign suns, or was newly single—like nothing had ever changed.

He’d given her things in the past, of course. Souvenirs and birthday presents. Nice, lovely gifts.

But this? This was not the same.

It simply didn’t make sense.

The laptop was a gift of necessity. But the skincare products? That insanely expensive La Mer moisturiser sitting casually on her dressing table? Penelope ignored the itch to go online and look up the cost of each item, knowing it would come to a grand total that would send her into heart palpitations.

No matter how much she tried to rationalise it, she couldn’t. She wished she had a friend, someone to talk to. Someone who would help her analyse the situation. Eloise was definitely out of the question. She was so desperate she considered writing a post on Reddit asking for the internet’s opinion.

My friend (29M), who I (27F) am living with due to financial difficulty, gifted me with extremely expensive self-care products (La Mer range, costing thousands of pounds!!!!!!). Am I overthinking things? Is he just being generous or is he hinting at something more?

Surely these were not the sort of gifts a bloke would buy for someone who has just his friend? Skincare, bath oil, scented candles…these were the province of boyfriends and significant others…or was she simply suffering from an extreme case of wishful thinking?

Penelope sighed.

“Penelope.”

She looked up to find her friend and fellow assistant editor, Emma Kenworthy, standing by her desk.

Emma had been the first friend Penelope made when she started working at the Ton. They’d bonded over their love of Camilla Thurlow on the third series of Love Island and office gossip. Through Emma, Penelope had become friends with Remington, a junior writer, who preferred to go by his surname and refused to tell people his first name.

He was just Remington. Like Madonna.

Remington worked remotely, so Penelope had become Emma’s de facto work wife.

“Come on. I need my matcha latte fix.”

Penelope glanced guiltily at her screen where a mountain of unanswered emails were vying for her attention and heaved a sigh. She’d been staring hopelessly at her screen for the past ten minutes, mooning over Colin. Maybe a coffee break would help.

She and Emma took the lift down to the coffee stand in the foyer of their building. Emma was catching Penelope up on her third date with the very dreamy Charles Cho.

“I just don’t get it,” Emma complained as they waited for their coffee orders. “He’s so fit and so posh. I don’t really know why he’s interested in dating a girl from Birmingham. Maybe Charlie likes me for the novelty. ”

“Emma,” Penelope admonished. It was unsettling to hear her friend talk about herself in this way when she was normally brimming with confidence. “You’re gorgeous, brilliant, and funny. Charlie is lucky you’re giving him the time of day. You’re a rising star in The Ton and he’s…what is he? A stay at home son?”

“I’m just not sure if he’s serious or not,” Emma looked around furtively, before she held out her wrist to Penelope.

Penelope looked down and felt her eyes widen. She swallowed down a squeal at the sight of the golden chain and agate motifs that resembled four leaf clovers encircling her friend’s wrist.. “Oh my god. It’s a Van Cleef!”

“He just…took it out during dinner and put it on my wrist,” Emma told Penelope, eyes wide and helpless. “Do you think I should have refused it? Does he expect me to put out on our next date now?”

“Well, what did he say when he gave it to you?”

“He said he had no expectations. He just saw the bracelet and thought of me. So he bought it. Because he thought it would please me.”

Penelope’s stomach swooped slightly at the familiarity of the words. She pushed the feeling away, focusing on Emma’s situation instead. A small cynical part of her very much doubted Cho’s words, and it didn’t sit right with her how her self-assured friend had been acting since she started seeing this man. They'd stalked his Instagram together and every photo he had on his grid gave the impression of a pampered public school fuck boy whose only pastime and hobby was spending daddy’s money.

But Emma was absolutely gone for this man, so Penelope didn’t think it was appropriate to voice her concern. She said, neutrally, “You shouldn’t feel pressured to do anything with him, no matter what he gives you.”

Emma sighed. “Easier said than done. I wanted to jump him as soon as he opened the box. I think I’m going to sleep with him tonight.”

Penelope wasn’t sure what to say to that. Emma smiled at her and changed the subject, perhaps embarrassed by her own brazenness. “So, how are things with you? Is your mum still in Ireland visiting your aunt?”

“Yep,” Penelope replied automatically. She pasted a carefully bland smile on her face. “It’s nice to have a break from her. Especially while Pru is going full bridezilla over her wedding plans.”

Emma made a noise of sympathy before her eyes flickered to the right and she murmured, “Look alive, the nepo queen showed up for work today.”

Speaking of pampered and spoiled—

Cressida Cowper sauntered past them on the way to the front counter, a cloud of sickly sweet Baccarat Rouge 540 lingered in the air in her wake. Today, Cressida wore head-to-toe pink Chanel and her trademark smirk.

Penelope and Emma exchanged glances. Another reason they had become friends was due to their shared mutual loathing of Cressida. Penelope was never quite sure what she had done to earn Cressida’s hatred. They had known each other almost all their lives. She had tortured Penelope all through school. And now, by some strange twist of fate, they were working together. Cressida had wanted to get a position in fashion editorial, but even Araminta Cowper’s influence hadn’t managed to land her daughter in the department she wanted, so she had been shuffled off to work under Agatha Danbury’s supervision.

On Penelope’s first day, Cressida had made a cruel remark about Penelope’s wearing Primark shoes (from M&S actually) and Emma had been quick to come to her defence.

The girl behind the counter called out their orders.

“Come on. Let’s get back to work,” Penelope said to Emma, eager to avoid an encounter that would just make her day worse.

🎀 🎀 🎀

[From Penelope at 6:45PM]

I think I forgot to say ‘thank you’ this morning, so…thank you.

[From Colin at 7:32PM]

yw

[From Penelope at 7:33PM]

I feel like we should probably talk about it though.

[From Colin at 7:33PM]

I’d love to receive your thanks in person 😎

[From Penelope at 9:13PM]

I’m using the bath oil you got for me in my bath tonight. The whole room smells amazing 🛀

[From Colin at 9:17PM]

Really? I wish I was there rn

Penelope stared at her phone, unable to come up with a response to Colin’s message. Heat curled in her belly and it had nothing to do at all with the hot, scented water floating about her.

Her conversation with Emma swirled in her head much like the bubbles surrounding her. I’m going to sleep with him tonight. Penelope had no doubt that Cho’s gifts had come with those specific expectations and, despite Emma’s protests to the contrary, Penelope suspected her friend wanted to give in to said expectations.

She felt envious.

Emma wanted to sleep with Cho, and Emma would sleep with Cho, because the expectations had been set. Each of them knew their roles. Penelope wished for the same clarity. Instead she was blindfolded and fumbling around on a dark set with no idea what part and what play she was even supposed to be starring in.

Of course. Everything in her life was complicated and difficult. Why should this be any different?

She looked at Colin’s message again, and felt the torment of not knowing. Was she reading too much into it, thanks to her years of pining for him? Was she being greedy, hoping for more than his friendship and care?

She shouldn’t compare him to someone like Cho—Colin was a far better person. He would never buy a woman gifts just to lure her into bed. She couldn’t think so cheaply of him and their friendship.

But it was tempting. Oh, it was so tempting. It was too easy to fall into the fantasy of believing Colin wanted her, that he wanted to ply her with presents that made her skin soft and supple, that he wanted to touch her in the ways she’d dreamed about all these years. It was all too easy to go one step further and fantasise about giving into the urge to repay him for his generosity with her body.

Did he really want to be here with her right now? Watching her bathe? Penelope shivered, her mind wandering. She had a box of sex toys secreted away at the back of the huge walk-in closet in her bedroom suite. She thought about them, wondering if it was a good idea to pull them out for a bit of relief.

How long had it been since she’d last had an orgasm? Longer than she cared to think about. Sex had been relegated to the very bottom of her list of priorities as her life spiralled out of control. Now, in the midst of the respite Colin had created for her, the temptation to indulge in a little sexual self-care was greater than she wanted to admit—especially because he was the centre of all her desires.

Penelope sighed and sank a little lower into the bubbly water, closing her eyes. She wasn’t brave enough to get out of the bath and retrieve her favourite vibrator—it was far too risky. What if Colin came home while she was in the middle of things?

Her breath quickened at the thought and her legs spread slightly under the water, warmth trickling between her thighs. She imagined the vibrator in hand, placing it there, gradually increasing the intensity until it reached her favourite setting—the highest one.

Penelope slipped a hand down, stroking herself lightly. Her nipples tightened, pink and puckered beneath the bubbles. How good would it feel to call out Colin’s name as she pressed two fingers inside, fucking herself in the pretty bathtub he let her use?

It wouldn’t be the first time she’d brought herself to pleasure thinking about Colin. She imagined writhing and moaning as her vibrator worked away; imagined the sound of her own voice drowning out the footsteps that signalled his arrival. She wouldn’t hear him opening the door and slipping inside until it was too late, until she’d moaned his name as she reached her peak—her fingers traced her slick opening, pulsing with arousal as she imagined Colin’s dark eyes watching her cum.

She pictured him coming closer, kneeling on the floor next to the tub, his hand outstretched, brushing aside the bubbles so he could see exactly what she was doing. Her heart pounded in her chest as she played out the rest of the fantasy…Colin dipping his fingers into the water…touching her where she was utterly aching for him.

That’s my best friend! She’s a real bad bitch—

Music blasted suddenly, as Best Friend by Saweetie and Doja Cat filled the room, startling Penelope out of her delicious daydream.

An incoming call.

She might as well have been doused with a bucket of cold water. Abysmal timing definitely was Eloise’s specialty.

Penelope wiped her hand on the towel that lay folded on the rim of the tub and reached for her phone.

She prayed her voice sounded normal as she swiped to answer, her heart still racing and her pussy throbbing with thwarted arousal, “Hullo? El?”

“Penelope,” her best friend huffed. The call was staticky and full of background noise and Penelope could barely make out what Eloise was saying.

“Are you busy? Because I’m seriously pissed off right now and I need to rant.”

Yes, I was busy wanking off to thoughts of your brother, but nevermind—Penelope cleared her throat, pressing a hand to her flushed cheeks. Guilt motivated her to murmur, “I’m not busy. Just in the bath. Go ahead.”

Eloise launched into a no-holds-barred tirade about her latest conflict with a Natural Sciences professor at her university. Penelope didn’t quite understand what exactly he’d done wrong, except that strongly worded emails had been exchanged.

The bubbles in Penelope’s bath began to dissipate as the rant went on and on. She gave up trying to follow Eloise’s story, murmuring ‘yes’ and ‘no’ at appropriate moments as she lathered up her legs with shaving cream.

She was straining over the bathtub, trying to reach the razor she’d laid on the bench when the door to the bathroom opened.

Her heart did a wild little flip as Colin stepped inside, holding a bottle of wine and two wine glasses. She froze, her breasts pressed against the porcelain rim, nipples tightening under Colin’s gaze. He’s not looking away.

Eloise said crossly over the line, “Penelope? Are you still there?”

Penelope couldn’t answer. Colin came closer, setting the wine bottle down and plucking the razor from the bench.

“Is this what you want?” His fingers brushed hers as he placed it into her hand. Goosebumps spread across her body and she felt a throbbing need between her legs once again.

“Is someone there?” Eloise demanded, her voice tinny. “Aren’t you in the bath?”

Oh, bloody hell.

Penelope met Colin’s eyes. “I’ll call you back, El.”

She hung up on Eloise, sinking back under the cloudy, scented water. A charged silence clung to the air as they regarded one another.

“Sorry,” he muttered, nodding at her mobile. “I didn’t know you were on the phone.”

It lit up with a text notification. WAS THAT MY BROTHER????????

Penelope winced, ignoring her racing heart. She turned her phone facedown. There would be a reckoning later, but she’d deal with it when the time came.

“She’ll get over it,” said Colin, nonchalantly handing her the wine glass. He didn’t seem bothered at all.

If he wasn’t bothered, then why should Penelope be? She pushed Eloise out of her mind and took a deep sip of the drink Colin had poured for her.

“Do you want some company?” he asked.

Her heart lurched. He wants to stay. She’d asked for it the night before—begged, really—and now he wanted to do it again. Penelope glanced at him, studying the way his eyes watched her. He looked hopeful, but she saw exhaustion lurking at the edges of his gaze.

Maybe it wasn’t about her. Maybe he needed the companionship.

She nodded. Colin relaxed, his eyes softening.

Act normal, she told herself. Easier said than done when the man who had been the object of her fantasies for years, who she’d just been thinking of while she touched herself in the same water she was still sitting in, was next to her. He settled onto the bench, looking right at home.

Penelope took a few more sips and felt the fever in her blood simmer down into a mild flush of warmth.

“Mmm,” she sighed. “That’s good.”

He smiled, taking a sip from his own glass. “Glad you approve.”

“It’s delicious.” The wine settled in her belly, spreading heat through her body.

Calm down, she told herself. Colin seemed perfectly unperturbed, a clear sign that he didn’t regard this as anything out of the ordinary between friends. It wasn’t as though she were a stranger to pining for him, so it wasn’t too difficult to reign her desires in and pretend she wasn’t suffering from a complete and utter hormonal breakdown.

Normalcy was key. She knew better than to make this into something it wasn’t.

Reluctantly, she set down the wine glass on the rim of the tub, and took up her razor. “How was your day?”

Colin reached for the glass, watching idly as she ran her razor over legs. He recounted the day’s mishaps at Ambrosia, mainly involving the menu shuffle he'd been forced to do because of a shortage in rock salt, of all things.

This was fine, she thought. It was nice. It felt companionable. She had never thought of her bath routine as a lonely time, but now that she had experienced it with Colin next to her, she was afraid it would forever feel empty without him.

Now that was a depressing thought.

"You missed a spot," he said helpfully.

"Thanks." A flush crept over her cheeks. Awkwardly, she muttered, “I’m terrible at shaving my legs.”

“May I?” He set his own glass of wine carefully beside him and reached out a hand for her razor. Penelope’s brain went blank with shock for a moment. Did he seriously mean to…

Curiosity won out over her surprise. She handed him the razor and sat back to watch him work. There was still a copious amount of foamy bubbles covering the surface of the water and her leg was slick with soap so there was no need for shaving foam.

She watched him work for a while before she said, tentatively, “Colin. Can we talk about the presents you got me?”

“You don’t like them?”

“No, of course not,” Penelope said quickly. “It’s only…well, it came as a bit of a shock. It’s not even my birthday, or Christmas, so I really don’t understand why I deserve such a generous gift…”

She bit her lip, letting her sentence trail off.

“I didn’t plan on it,” Colin said distractedly, his focus on the slope of her knee. The trail of the razor across her skin left goosebumps in its wake. “I was taking a walk and came across a spa when I saw those products and thought of you, so I bought them for you.”

Penelope furrowed her brow. Why did those words sound so familiar? Hadn’t Cho given Emma the same story?

“Did it make you uncomfortable?”

“I…I just feel like it’s a lot.”

“It’s not,” Colin denied, pausing with the razor in his hand. “It was like retail therapy for me.”

“Maybe it’s nothing to you, but to me it’s, like, close to a month’s salary. It feels wasteful slathering that much money on my face.”

“As long as it makes you happy, then I consider it money well spent.”

Colin finished one leg and tapped on her other knee. She dipped her freshly shaved leg daintily back into the bath and raised her other leg, resting her ankle on the rim of the tub. She considered his weary face, the faint bruises under his eyes and decided not to push the subject.

Instead, she indulged herself by running her eyes over his handsome jaw, where a five o’clock shadow had started to form. She loved the nights when he came home before she went to bed. She loved getting to see him with stubble. Before this, she rarely ever saw him with facial hair. It made him look older and incredibly attractive. Her mind wandered, wondering how it would feel beneath her fingertips…

The spot between her legs started tingling again, wanting to feel his stubble on other parts of her body, too.

“All done,” Colin said, snapping her out of her horny daydreams.

She leaned forward and peered down at her smooth leg. “Nice job,” she smiled at Colin.

He smiled back and rose to his feet. “Are you almost done?”

She held up her pruny fingertips. “I think I’m done.”

“I’ll wait for you outside.”

Penelope waited until he shut the bathroom door tightly behind him before she got out of the tub. Her body was steaming from the hot water so she dried off and put on a T-shirt and shorts.

Colin was sitting on her bed when she opened the door, he looked up and held out a hand to her. She felt like a puppet on a string as she walked towards him and took his hand.

“I got you something.”

She looked at the two cream coloured boxes sitting on the bed and her breath caught in her throat.

“I was shopping for Daphne’s birthday gift and I couldn’t help myself.”

He had bought her a matching powder blue silk camisole and shorts set. An ivory robe with black stripes and delicate blue bunches of florals printed on the silk. He’d even purchased a matching silk sleep mask.

She looked up at him with an enquiring expression, heart beating a trifle too quickly for comfort.

“I wanted you to have something lovely to wear to sleep.”

“Thank you,” she said, hoping her tone conveyed how much she loved the pyjamas. She owned nothing half as fine and she loved that Colin had chosen them with her in mind. She stoked the fabric and imagined the caress of the material on her naked skin and suppressed a shiver.

She didn’t deserve this. Or him.

“I love them,” she told Colin honestly. “You have great taste.”

He ducked his head, but she could see how pleased he was by her praise. “I’m glad you approve.”

Something tightened inside her. Colin is not Cho, she reminded herself. His gifts were simply gifts; they came with no strings attached, whatsoever.

But what if she wanted the strings? What if she had expectations?

Some strange, untenable recklessness took over her. She thought of Emma saying, I’m going to sleep with him tonight. The envy and longing intensified in her stomach. The way he’d carefully tended to her with her razor. The way he’d looked at her, leaning over the tub. The tingles that covered her body, imagining his hands touching her.

She wanted him so badly it hurt, so badly that she was willing to indulge in fantasy and throw caution to the wind.

He placed his hand on her back and it felt like a brand searing into her skin through her clothing. “Do you want to order some food and watch a movie?”

I want you.

Penelope shook her head, her voice husky. “Not yet.”

He tilted his head, looking down at her. It was incredibly sexy.

“First, you have to finish your job,” She held out a new tub of moisturiser to him. “I always moisturise my legs after I shave.”

His eyes darkened as he took the tub from her. She sat down on the edge of her bed as he slowly kneeled at her feet. She extended one leg and watched as he took a dollop of cream and massaged it into her skin. She felt breathless and dizzy when he glanced up at her from time to time, gauging her reaction.

Colin was unrepentantly gentle and thorough, despite his exhaustion. His palms stroked over her skin lightly, hands lingering on her ankles as he proclaimed, “All done.”

“Good job.”

Colin grinned and he began to say something else but then he let out a yawn so big his jaw almost popped. Guilt swallowed up some of the lust that had overtaken her senses. He ought to be resting, not tending to her like this.

“Sorry,” Colin rubbed at his eyes tiredly. “God, it's been a long day.”

She tugged him back onto the bed beside her, rubbing his shoulder worriedly. “Maybe you should have an early night. You look like you need it.”

“I wanted to spend some time with you,” Colin protested, but he immediately let out another jaw breaking yawn as soon as he finished the sentence.

Penelope smothered a smile and suggested, “Why don’t we have a nap?”

“Can I nap here with you?”

Penelope felt herself blush, but luckily Colin was too tired to notice. “Sure.”

“Can I take off my shirt?”

Her heart stuttered. “Yeah, get comfy.”

Colin undressed to his white vest and boxer briefs before joining her under the covers. She stared, riveted for a few seconds by the sight. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her forehead. He paused, then nuzzled her cheek.

“You smell nice,” he mumbled, the words came out slurred. His eyes were already closed. He was fading fast.

She rested her head on his chest, listening to his breaths slow and deepen. He looked peaceful. Irresistible. Maybe, because of that, she couldn’t resist.

Penelope leaned up and brushed a kiss against his lips.

Colin’s eyes fluttered open, making her heart skip a beat.

“What was that for?” he murmured sleepily.

Caught, her face turned hot as she whispered, “To thank you for shaving my legs.”

“I also moisturised them,” he reminded her, smiling slightly. “Do I get a kiss for that, too?”

The curve of his lips hooked at something inside her, something hot and reckless. He didn’t move, as though waiting, and she stared at his mouth, attraction sizzling through her.

She pressed a second, longer kiss to his soft, waiting mouth.

It was only a gentle press of their lips, but the pleasure of that brief contact rippled through her entire body, from her ears to her fingertips to her toes.

Penelope pulled back, heart thundering in her chest, wondering if she’d done something incredibly stupid. But Colin’s eyes were fixed on her mouth and she felt exhilaration thrumming in her blood. Her inhibitions had been lowered by the wine and the realisation that maybe…

…maybe Colin Bridgerton wanted her, too.

Chapter Text

Daphne had requested a quiet, at home family dinner for her birthday, so Violet organised for a private chef to cater. The dinner fell on a Sunday evening thus a gastro-pub style roast dinner was served up: cod roe, a warm blue cheese tart with apples, celery and walnuts, venison scotch eggs, crispy Cumbrian pork belly, slow cooked deer shoulder falling off the bone, juicy roast chicken, silky yorkshire puddings, greens and crunchy roast potatoes. By the time the birthday cake was being served, the Bridgertons were sitting around the dining table groaning at how full they were from their decadent dinner.

It was rare for Colin to feel uncomfortable at his own family gatherings, but tonight was proving to be an exception. Even Penelope’s presence—usually a balm to his nerves—wasn’t helping.

He only felt the awkwardness grow further when his mother pulled him aside and said, “Are you getting enough sleep, darling? You’re looking a bit…tired.”

As a matter of fact, he was sleeping better these days, thanks to Penelope. But he couldn’t tell his mother that, as much as he wanted to reassure her after she’d spent the better part of the evening fussing over him in every spare moment. He knew he looked haggard. A few nights of rest didn’t make a dent in the months of sleep debt he’d racked up.

“I’m sleeping, Mum. Promise.”

He wasn’t sure she believed him. Nevertheless, she let it go, sensing his reluctance to focus on his deteriorating physical state.

Violet changed the subject. “You’re doing a very lovely thing for Penelope, Colin. I’m proud of you.”

Colin shrugged, uncomfortable with the praise. “I’m not really doing anything, Mum. You know I have plenty of room.”

“You don’t have to be modest, dear. Penelope told me earlier about how well you’ve taken care of her. You’ve always been so kind,” Violet said fondly. “I’ve raised such a gentleman.”

A gentleman. He winced inwardly. A gentleman who asked his friend to take off her bra so he could feel her breasts unhindered against him while she lay on top of him. A gentleman who plied his friend with wine, brazenly entering the bathroom while she sat naked in a pool of scented bubbles. A gentleman who touched her legs shamelessly, under the pretence of helping her shave.

Penelope was across the room, standing next to Hyacinth and Daphne, their heads bent together over Daphne’s newest bespoke designer handbag, her husband’s tribute for her twenty-eighth birthday.

Daphne appreciated Colin’s gift, too, which was nice. He’d done his research, finding out what brands she loved and often raved about. She’d gone on at length about how comfortable the pyjamas were and how thoughtful he was. Penelope had caught his eye while Daphne thanked him and he’d grinned at her. Then he thought of Penelope wearing the sleeping set he’d ordered for her—a much skimpier camisole/shorts combo than the long-sleeved version he’d bought for Daphne—and quickly averted his gaze.

Colin felt another flicker of guilt as he remembered the way his body had reacted to her drunken rambling and how shamelessly he’d stared for just a heartbeat too long at her naked, wet rose-tipped breasts before he’d come to his senses and wrapped her up in the towel.

If his mother could read his thoughts right now, would she still think him a gentleman?

“The poor girl must be going through so much,” Violet murmured sympathetically.

“She is,” Colin confirmed. “She’s being very brave.”

“You’ll keep taking care of her, won’t you?”

“I’ll try my best,” he promised.

“That’s my boy.”

Colin experienced another pang of guilt and left his mother to join his siblings and Penelope at the dinner table. He sat down next to her, breathing in the delicate scent of her shampoo and body lotion. She smelled different, in a good way, and he knew it was because she’d used the new products he’d bought for her. Satisfaction welled up inside Colin.

He stroked her arm to get her attention, marvelling at how baby soft she felt. Was it the cream or did she just have incredibly silky skin?

He looked up and found Daphne’s eyes on him. His sister looked at his fingers where they lay on Penelope’s arm and then back at his face with a raised eyebrow.

He removed his hand from Penelope’s arm and let it fall uselessly to his side. A part of him wanted to make an excuse to leave early so he could have Penelope all to himself again, but that was out of the question. His mother had insisted that he bring her over for dinner and all his siblings had agreed that she hadn’t come around in ages and they all missed her. Even Anthony.

“Penelope, has Scotland Yard found your dad yet?” asked Hyacinth. All eyes around the table snapped to her and then to Penelope.

“Not yet,” Penelope answered into the awkward silence that followed his little sister’s inopportune question.

On the receiving end of several disapproving stares, Hyacinth wilted slightly. Penelope gave his youngest sister a small smile, as if to reassure Hyacinth, but Colin could see the strain in the corner of Penelope’s mouth.

Hyacinth opened her mouth, but before she could speak again, Colin changed the subject.

“Benedict, how did your dinner with Sophie’s folks go?”

Benedict shot him an irritated look. Colin knew exactly how it had gone. Colin shot him a shit-eating grin in response.

“Oh, yes. How did that dinner go, dearest?” Violet asked. “Also, why couldn’t Sophie join us tonight?”

“She’s not speaking with me right now,” Benedict sighed. “She’s angry because I was unforgivably rude to her monstrous step-mother.”

The room erupted into noise as the siblings clamoured for more details. Colin felt a soft pressure on his hand. He looked down at the hand covering his own larger one and then at the owner of the soft, small hand. Penelope gazed at him with a grateful expression.

Thank you, her hand squeeze communicated to him.

He turned his palm upwards so he could hold her hand properly, but she was already withdrawing.

Once more, he wished that they were alone back at home.

Maybe, if they had been alone, Penelope would have rewarded him with another kiss. He immediately felt a twinge of guilt over the thought.

“How is it having Colin as a flatmate?” asked Hyacinth, nonchalantly taking a bite of birthday cake.

“He’s very busy,” Penelope said mildly. “I don’t get to see much of him. He doesn’t get home until I’ve gone to bed and sometimes he’s already left when I’m getting up in the morning.”

“Ships passing in the night,” Colin put in. Most of the eyes in the room swung to him and he regretted opening his mouth.

He chafed under their attention. Why was everyone so nosy? He knew his family meant well, but he felt oddly protective of Penelope around them, wishing they would stop prying into their living arrangement.

It felt, suddenly, like something that ought to remain private, just between the two of them.

“Work has been hectic,” Colin explained, knowing he had to say something.

Penelope nodded, flashing him a cheeky little smile. “I have free reign of his gorgeous, huge flat. Can’t complain.”

“So you don’t even see each other?” Daphne asked dubiously.

Not unless he came home early, hoping she’d invite him into the bathroom while she relaxed in the tub. He’d brought home several cases of vintage champagne they kept in reserve at Ambrosia (not on his tab, thank you very much) because of how much she’d enjoyed the bottle he’d opened for her—all in the name of making sure Pen had everything she needed and wanted.

“Sometimes,” Penelope said. She caught Colin’s eye. “We watch movies together.”

“That’s so boring,” Gregory said, shaking his head. “Penelope, tell the truth—are you lonely? If Colin isn’t keeping you entertained, I can. I’ll take you out for dinner—”

“Hey—” Colin began to object, but he was ignored.

“I just got a new bike,” Gregory continued. He grinned at Penelope, lifting an eyebrow in a way that reminded Colin of an overeager puppy trying to wag its tail at another dog it wanted to impress.

“You’re joking,” Colin said, incredulously.

“I’m a hundred percent serious,” Gregory retorted. “I’ve even got a spare helmet!”

“You are not taking Penelope out to dinner on your death trap of a motorbike,” Colin said firmly, casting his younger brother a quelling look.

“It’s perfectly safe!” Gregory protested in outrage. “I’m a good driver!”

“Not happening.”

“Perhaps Penelope would like to take a ride on Greg’s motorbike,” Hyacinth interjected, her eyes darting back and forth between them.

Violet stepped in, “Perhaps Gregory can borrow my car?”

“I don’t need a car, Mum.”

“I had a motorbike when I was Greg’s age,” Marcus spoke up, he wore a dreamy, nostalgic expression, clearly thinking back on fond memories. “You would have loved it, Violet.”

Hyacinth mimed barfing as their mother and stepfather made moony eyes at one another. Colin felt his temper slipping further and he couldn’t help but glare at Gregory, even though he knew deep down he was overreacting.

“Penelope is present, in case you all forgot,” said Daphne, rolling her eyes. “How about we let her decide?”

“That’s lovely of you to offer, Greg,” Penelope said carefully, the weight of all the Bridgerton eyes upon her. “But I’m sure you’re too busy with uni to spend time with me.”

“I’ll make time for you, Penelope. You just let me know when you’re home alone and want a fun night out on the town,” Gregory winked at her.

Irritation flashed through Colin. Hadn’t Penelope’s polite knock back been clear enough to Gregory? He kept his mouth shut, as everyone collectively decided to let the subject drop.

Perhaps the stress was getting to him, he thought, moodily eating his dessert. He’d never been so short-tempered with his siblings before. Penelope seemed to sense his dark mood. She rubbed his arm and squeezed his hand beneath the table. He squeezed back, somewhat mollified by her touch.

It was still too early to make excuses and leave. He wanted to go back to the flat with Penelope and ignore his responsibilities for a little while.

His train of thought was interrupted when Anthony clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Colin,” his eldest brother said. “Join me for a drink?”

Reluctantly, Colin peeled himself away from Penelope’s side and followed Anthony to the sideboard.

“How are you?” Anthony asked, his voice mild as he poured each of them a glass of whisky.

“I’m fine,” Colin said wearily. “Busy, of course. Trying my best to make sure opening day isn’t delayed.”

His brother’s dark eyes examined him. “Stanton mentioned there was an issue with the fit-out.”

“I’m handling it,” Colin said, trying to sound firm, but perhaps the words came out more defensive than he’d have liked. “I’m not going to cause the other investors to panic about a delay before I’ve exhausted every option.”

Anthony nodded before he took a sip of his drink. “I am always here if you want to talk. Or just vent.”

“Appreciate it, but I’m good,” Colin said. He wasn’t going to trouble Anthony with his problems. It was his restaurant, his business, his own burden to shoulder.

🎀 🎀 🎀

The rain pelted down on the windscreen as Colin carefully drove his Range Rover through the heavy downpour.

“I’m sorry about Hyacinth,” Colin apologised to Penelope.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” Penelope said softly. “She didn’t mean any harm, she was just curious.”

“Maybe, but she needs to have some tact.”

His phone rang, Rae’s name flashed on the dashboard screen.

Colin answered the call. “Hello?”

“Colin,” Rae’s voice filled the interior of the car. “None of the fridges and freezers in the kitchen are working.”

Colin glanced at the time. It was eight o’clock and the second seating was just beginning. He could imagine the chaos that was taking place in the kitchen without its fridges and freezers functioning properly.

“The number is in my office,” Colin said tersely. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

Rae hung up.

“I’m sorry,” Colin apologised to Penelope for the second time. “I’m going to need to make a quick stop at the restaurant.”

“Of course. Will everything be all right?” Penelope asked, sounding concerned.

“The fridge and freezer system just got serviced a few weeks ago.” Colin explained tiredly. “I need to get the invoice of the bloke who carried out the service and get him to come down to look at it.”

Twenty minutes later, Colin and Penelope walked into Ambrosia. The restaurant was packed with guests. The issue in the kitchens hadn’t seemed to affect the dinner service too much, the dining room emanated merriness and relaxation as people talked and laughed amongst themselves.

Penelope reassured him that she would be fine waiting for him at the bar, so Colin rushed upstairs to his office. He rifled through the stacks of invoices he had filed away for the previous month until he found the one he was looking for. He made a call to the handyman and managed to convince him to make an urgent call out within the hour.

He ducked into the kitchens to speak to an irate Dunwoody to reassure him that the repairman was on the way. Dunwoody launched into a tirade about the state of the kitchen equipment and Colin was on the verge of snapping back that Dunwoody had been the one to choose all the appliances and equipment two years ago.

But Colin thought about the night he had ahead of him with Penelope—her softness, her perfect lips, the way her ocean blue eyes glowed these days when she looked up at him—and he bit his tongue, letting Dunwoody rant until he ran out of steam and turned to their grillardin to berate her for her cuts of lamb belly.

By the time he made it back to the bar, he had been away for close to thirty minutes and he found Penelope nursing a cocktail and chatting to Rae.

Despite how strained Colin felt after his encounter with Dunwoody, he couldn’t help but grin at how cute Penelope looked, perched on the barstool. Her legs didn’t quite reach the footrest and her little ballet flats rested delicately against the column of the stool.

He placed his hand on her lower back for her attention.

“Hello,” Penelope tilted her head up to look up at him and he admired the perfect rounded curve of her cheek and the way her eyes seemed more grey than blue in the dimmed lighting of the restaurant. “Is everything sorted?”

Colin nodded distractedly, “Are you finished with your drink?”

“Yeah,” Penelope turned back to Rae to thank her. “Thanks for the cocktail, Rae. It was delicious.”

“Anytime, love,” Rae smiled warmly at Penelope.

Colin helped Penelope hop down from the barstool before he nodded at his manager. “The handyman will be here within the hour. I’ve sent his contact to your phone already.”

“Alright, thanks. Enjoy the rest of your evening,” Rae replied.

Impatient to return home so that he could finally be alone with her, Colin took Penelope by the hand and led her to the exit.

🎀 🎀 🎀

He was so glad to see the inside of his own flat. It was a curious feeling, one he’d never really had before Penelope moved in. The rain was coming down hard and the city lights outside were a blur. The heavy rainfall and the faint rumbling of thunder made the space feel more intimate, like he and Penelope were sheltered away from the rest of the world.

He led her by the hand to the sofa and sat down with a heavy sigh of relief.

“I’m knackered,” he sighed.

He pulled gently at her hand until she stood between his legs. When he tugged her forward she blushed prettily, but took the hint and lowered herself until she was sitting on his lap. Penelope smelled so good he wanted to bury his face into her neck.

It was still early and he didn’t want to turn in for the night yet. He liked the weight of her perched on his thigh. He ran a hand over her hip and down her leg, wishing she wasn’t wearing tights so he could feel her silky smooth skin again.

“D’you want me to lie on you again?” she asked sweetly.

He nodded gratefully, not caring how stupidly eager he came across. But before he could lay down, he was distracted by the way she kneaded up his arm, fingers working at the muscles in his shoulders and neck. Colin made an embarrassing sound.

“That feels good,” he groaned. “Fuck, my neck is killing me.”

Penelope worked at loosening a knot right at the base of his neck, a frown on her face. “You’re so tense.”

His aching muscles screamed at the pressure of her fingers, but the pain felt good, holding promise of relief.

“Hold on a mo’,” she said, releasing him.He resisted the urge to cry foul as Penelope stood, disappearing off to her bedroom.

She returned a few moments later. She’d changed out of her cosy jumper and jeans into the matching camisole and shorts set. He’d purchased it for her because the colour was the exact same shade of blue as her eyes. Her long red hair was loose and the fiery curls cascaded over her shoulders. Her breasts were unbound under the thin silk top.

And her skin—there was so much of it on display, swathes of peaches and cream that he was desperate to taste and lick and bite.

He swallowed.

She held a bottle of body oil, one of the items from the spa.

The hairs on the back of his neck rose and he felt a strange, panicked sense of anticipation.

“Take your shirt off,” she said, gently. “I’ll give you a massage.

His heart quickened.

A part of his brain screamed at him that this was not a good idea. But being massaged by Penelope sounded like heaven, so he pushed that annoying voice to the back of his mind.

He moved automatically, taking his shirt off as Penelope watched, her eyes tracking his movements. His heart raced as he draped the shirt over the arm of the sofa.

“Lie down,” she said, softly.

The words sent a warm tingle of anticipation down his spine.

He obeyed, laying down on his stomach and tucking a pillow beneath his chin. Penelope uncapped the bottle and poured a generous amount into her hand, filling the air with the scent of sandalwood and verbena.

“That smells good,” he said appreciatively as she rubbed her palms together to warm up the oil.

“It does,” Penelope agreed. “Everything you got for me is incredible.”

He sucked in a breath as he felt Penelope climb over him onto the sofa, settling her weight gingerly on his thighs. He could feel the heat of her body through the thin fabric of her pyjamas, igniting a tension in his stomach that had nothing to do with stress.

“Is the pressure okay?” she asked, her hands coming to rest on the middle of his back for balance.

“It’s good,” he replied. She hummed and started moving her hands, stroking in wide, gentle circles, spreading the oil over his skin. Her touch was light at first as she got familiar with the contours of his back, thorough in her study of him, as though committing it to memory. Then she got to work, massaging him with a strength he hadn’t known she possessed, her fingers finding every tense muscle and knot.

Fuck, it felt good.

If he wasn’t a gooey puddle by the end of this, maybe he could convince Penelope to let him return the favour? An image of himself straddling Penelope and running his oiled hands over the skin of her smooth, naked back flashed through his mind and the heat that followed it was astonishingly intense.

He would have been lying if he said this wasn’t turning him on. He always got turned on, truthfully. It was just that each time they’d cuddled, he’d been so exhausted that his body hadn’t been able to summon the capacity to react like any red-blooded man would with a braless Penelope lying on top of him. It had felt tortuously good to have her soft curves pressed up against him.

Exhaustion wasn’t enough to save him this time. Cuddling was one thing, but Penelope touching him like this was more than his libido could handle. He felt himself growing hard, his erection pressing into the sofa cushions.

He’d dreamt of her just the night before. Dreams he shouldn’t be having. Dreams he couldn’t help thinking about now while she sat astride him, massaging him. He’d awoken from those dreams feeling aroused and guilty, wondering how his mind had twisted her many heartfelt declarations of gratefulness into fantasies of her offering to thank him in other ways.

Not cool, he reminded himself. He wrestled with his conscience, but before he could come up with a distraction to help with his growing problem, Penelope spoke.

“Turn around.”

He froze and knew that Penelope had felt him stiffen.

Her voice was gentle and cajoling. “Your jaw is probably tense, let me work on it a little.”

He should have refused. He should have made some excuse and sent them both to sleep in their respective beds. But he was weak and half-drunk from her touches. Having experienced the heaven of Penelope’s hands on him, diligently working on his tired and aching body, he did not want it to end yet. In fact, he would have begged her to keep going.

So, although he knew that it was a terrible idea, he followed her instructions and shifted onto his back.

There was no hiding it. Her fingers found his jaw just as she settled herself over his hips, and he knew there was no possible way that she had not felt it. His arousal. Colin opened his mouth to apologise, to come up with some sort of excuse, but Penelope let out a soft breathy noise that sent fire licking up his spine.

Colin quickly made to shift back but she stopped him with a single word.

“Don’t,” she said, her thumb tracing his jaw.

He swallowed, unable to pull his gaze away from hers. She looked intently into his eyes, her expression soft but determined.

“It’s okay,” she said. “It just means you’re relaxed.” Her thumb made little circles just beneath his ear, eliciting goosebumps across his throat. “You’re always taking care of me, I want to do the same for you.”

He placed his hands on her waist. “How do I take care of you?” He asked, his voice hoarse with want.

“When you buy me food to make sure I’m eating. When you buy me things just because you’re thinking about me,” her gaze turned shy as she continued. “When you hold me. When you touch me.”

She shifted on his lap, pressing herself down against him. Delicious friction sent sparks through his body and he had to bite back a groan. He was mesmerised at the gentle sway of her tits beneath her thin little top, her nipples were hard and he wanted to reach up and yank the straps down, exposing her gorgeous rosy tips to his hungry eyes.

“I really do mean it, Colin,” Penelope said, and his gaze snapped back to her face. “I want to take care of you,” she continued in her honeyed siren voice. “Whatever you need from me. You can take it.”

She raked her nails gently down his stomach. Colin gasped, his hips jerking upwards, seeking more, more pressure, more of her delicious warmth.

That irritating voice in the back of his head returned, shouting at him that this was wrong, that he shouldn’t be doing this—not with Penelope, not now, when she was alone, vulnerable and grief-stricken.

But…Lord help him, he was only a man. And Penelope was so soft, so beautiful, offering herself up to him. It had been so long since he’d been intimate with anyone and every part of him wanted it, wanted her—

Perhaps the Universe sensed that he was about to make a mistake of monumental proportions and decided to intervene before things got out of hand. At that precise moment, when Colin’s willpower was at its weakest, his phone started to ring.

Fuck.

Chapter Text

Colin disappeared over the next three days, thanks to another restaurant emergency. He continued to take care of Penelope—sending meal deliveries, a bouquet of stunning peonies, and daily texts checking in on her—all while staying firmly out of sight.

She didn’t think he was avoiding her. Not exactly. But she felt it, a kind of tension in the air that hadn’t existed before she’d given into her hopeful urges and thrown caution to the wind.

Idiot.

But he liked it, that silly wistful part of her argued back.

Pragmatism slapped it down. Still a stupid idea.

She’d been certain he wanted her. The simmering fire in his eyes couldn’t be faked. When his phone rang in the midst of things heating up, she’d half-hoped he would simply toss it aside and take her up on her very blatant, suggestive offer.

But he hadn’t.

He’d gone off to put out fires at his restaurant, leaving Penelope frustrated and worked up. She admonished herself for feeling hard done by when Colin was working crazy hours. Violet had pulled her aside at Daphne’s birthday dinner, confessing her concerns about his well-being and health. Penelope had promised she would encourage Colin to work less and rest more.

As she ate the food Colin had ordered for her—a bright and creamy butter chicken and fragrant rice, paired with a mango lassi—Penelope wondered what she could do.

She knew, firsthand, how rough things could get when working became your entire life. But her situation and Colin’s weren’t the same: she’d been busting her arse to pay debts…Colin was working hard because his restaurants were his passion. How could she tell him not to do what he loved?

Don’t get ahead of yourself, the pragmatic voice in her head said in rebuking tones. You’re in no position to be telling anyone else what to do.

She ate listlessly and cleaned up after herself. When that was done, she sat down with her laptop and slaved away over a couple of articles for work that were proving impossible. An hour later, after many unsuccessful attempts at editing the crap that she'd typed out, Penelope gave up. She simply couldn’t focus.

Taking a bath felt like too much effort and a rather lonely endeavour, now that she was used to Colin’s presence.

That was when her phone rang. The kneejerk panic that gripped her was only faintly assuaged by the caller ID listing out the name of one of her distant second uncles. Mystified, Penelope answered, her fingers trembling despite the relief she felt at the call not being from DI Hardy.

“I’ve been trying to reach your father for weeks now,” Uncle Howard rambled, as soon as Penelope greeted him with a cautious hello. “Have you any idea why he isn’t returning my calls? Where is he?”

Her stomach soured. Why was Uncle Howard looking for her father? She wondered bitterly if he was after money that was owed to him. Penelope was certain it wasn’t simply out of a desire to catch up.

“I’m not sure, either,” she said. Which wasn’t a lie, exactly. She didn’t know where her father was.

There was a long, suspicious pause on the line. “Is everything okay? I called your mother and your sisters, too. No one picked up. I’m surprised I managed to get through to you.”

Penelope had no idea what to say to that.

“They’re just busy with Prudence’s wedding plans,” she hedged, hoping it sounded convincing. “I think Dad’s on a work trip. I’ll let him know you called and pass on the message to contact you.”

She ended the call after a bit of polite small talk. The supper she’d eaten sat like lead in her stomach. For a good fifteen minutes she simply sat there—staring out the glass windows of the flat, watching the sunset trickle swathes of mauve and magenta across the horizon, decking the Tower Bridge in golden edges that turned into smokey darkness as the moon rose. Not quite seeing any of it.

There was a feeling in her gut—a kind of presentiment—that sunk in a little deeper with each passing day. She was afraid to examine it too carefully, lest it reveal itself as the truth, unmovable and unchangeable.

Sleep was long coming that night. She wanted to call Colin and hear his voice. Seek out the comfort she knew she could depend upon in his reassurance and support. But he was busy, working late nights, and it wasn’t fair to continually encumber him with her problems when he was busting his own arse. She tossed and turned in bed, punching the expensive, ergonomic cooling pillows and swaddled herself in the five-hundred thread count sheets, attempting to find respite in the shadowy corridors of sleep and failing miserably for hours.

Midnight came and went. Then it was one o’clock. She slipped into a fitful doze. It was punctuated by nightmares that made her wish she had stayed awake instead.

Her father, pale and drawn, wearing the clothes she’d seen him in last—his golfing gear—walking away from her. Ignoring her as she cried out for him and pleaded for him to turn around. She chased and chased and chased, never catching up. He sank into a dark pool of water, his eyes huge and haunted as he was swallowed up.

Penelope woke up drenched in a cold sweat. The sheets tangled around her legs and torso, suffocating her. She fought back a scream.

It was just a nightmare.

That was all.

She swallowed her terror, clamping her eyes shut. The image of Archie Featherington drowning circled in her mind, taunting her. She trembled violently, her skin sticky and her mouth dry.

Just a dream, she told herself, over and over, until the panic receded and the sick feeling in her stomach faded to a dull kind of churning.

No news is good news, or some such fucking nonsense.

Penelope opened her eyes. The LED digital clock on her nightstand glowed, informing her it was 1:43. She’d slept for a grand total of forty minutes and wished she hadn’t. She knew she wouldn’t again. Not tonight. Her terror left her shaky, even if the worst of it had passed.

A wave of longing for Colin swept over her, so intensely she felt like she could cry. She missed him so much it was a physical ache.

After another ten minutes of letting her breathing return to normal, Penelope sat up. Her stomach heaved as she stood on wobbly legs, heading for the bathroom. Miraculously, she didn’t puke up her supper.

She stripped off her pyjamas and stepped into the shower. She had to wash the sweat—and the nightmare—off her skin.

The hot water helped, a little. Penelope stood under the pounding spray, letting the steam seep into her skin and chase away the chill that had settled in her bones. It couldn’t compare to Colin’s arms, but it was the best she could have right now.

Penelope took a deep breath and stumbled back out of the shower. She pulled on her knickers and a soft terry cloth robe, but her feet took her to the laundry room instead of back to bed. There was something there she could have of Colin. One of his shirts, maybe. If she was lucky, it might even still smell like him.

No dress shirts in sight, but a stack of his pyjamas lay folded on a countertop, freshly taken from the dryer. Slightly disappointed, Penelope removed a shirt from the pile regardless, shed the robe, and slipped it over her shoulders.

It fell to her knees and she felt immediately better having it on, as silly as that was to admit.

She hesitated upon returning to her bedroom. Her phone lay on her nightstand. It was two o’clock in the morning now.

Colin still wasn’t home.

He must be exhausted.

She shook her head and resisted the urge to call him. He didn’t need to be concerned about her on top of whatever he was already dealing with. Had he slept at all? Would he get a chance to sleep? Why did life have to be so fucking hard, all the time? When would he get a break? When would she?

Blinking back tears—she didn’t know why she wanted to cry, suddenly—Penelope turned away from her bed and walked down the hallway to the kitchen.

She’d get some water. Or wine. Or whisky. Something.

Or maybe she would just lie on the tile floor in a foetal position.

It was dark in the flat, but the glow of the under-cabinet lighting highlighted a slumped figure next to the kitchen island. Her heart leapt into her throat.

Colin.

She recognized him a second later. He sat on a stool, his hands around a mug. The smell of tea tinged the air.

He looked up at the sound of her footsteps and her heart leapt again, painfully, at the sight of his face. Dark shadows lined his eyes, so deep they looked almost like bruises.

“Pen?”

She stepped closer, her mouth unbearably dry. “Colin, I didn’t hear you come in.”

He nodded, his voice gravelly from exhaustion. “I was quiet. Thought you’d be asleep already.”

“I was…” She hesitated. Colin waited patiently, looking incredibly kind despite his weariness. She felt a flash of weakness take over her and confessed, “I had a bad dream.”

His reaction was immediate: sympathetic, eager to comfort. “Come here.”

With a tiny flicker of shame—or, perhaps, she ought to think of it as shamelessness—Penelope went to Colin’s side, walking straight into his arms. She wrapped her own around his waist, burying her face into his chest: her favourite place to pillow herself. He hugged her, fully and tightly, allowing her to breathe for what felt like the very first time in days. Three days, to be exact. Since the last time he’d touched her.

His lips moved against her hair, where his chin rested. Softly, soothingly, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” she replied. It wasn’t worth reliving. Colin didn’t have to share every single one of her burdens. She was grateful enough just for this. “I’ll be okay.”

She pulled back to peer up at him, her heart twisting. “You should get some rest. You must have had a long day.”

He exhaled and the sound rattled around in his chest like a car engine with too many miles on its odometer. Worn out. Worn down. Just like she was.

“A long couple of days. The compressor broke down. That’s why the fridges stopped working. It's been a nightmare dealing with the insurers and the supplier trying to work out whether we can replace it or not. I’m sorry I haven’t been around. I’ve missed you.”

Despite everything, relief flooded her. Colin hadn’t been avoiding her on purpose. The tight, painful knot she hadn’t realised had formed in the middle of her chest loosened.

“I’ve missed you, too.”

Her voice sounded too laden with emotion to her own ears, but Colin smiled faintly at the admission. There was gladness in his gaze as his eyes trailed down her body, taking in the shirt she’d stolen from the laundry room. “I like your new PJs.”

Her cheeks heated. “Oh, I hope you don’t mind—”

“Of course I don’t,” His voice was rough and warm, licking down her spine. “I like the way you look in my clothes.”

Desire came far too easily, at the most inopportune of moments. Penelope pulled back and studied him, the way he slumped over the bar stool. He was the most exhausted she’d ever seen him look. Pity filled her. She pressed herself back into his arms, embracing him with as much affection as she could.

They stayed that way for a long time, seeking comfort in the heat of each other’s bodies. The chill from her nightmare was fully banished by the time she felt Colin’s weight press down more heavily on her. He was struggling to stay sitting upright on the stool.

She withdrew, ignoring the murmur of protest that came from Colin.

“C’mon. Let’s get you to bed.”

Penelope took him by the hand and led him into his bedroom. He followed willingly, putting up no resistance at all.

He squeezed her hand, his eyes landing on the pristinely made bed. There was real longing in them.

“I’ll take a shower,” he said, sounding like he wanted to do nothing less. “I need to wash the restaurant off me.”

It didn’t feel like a dismissal. Penelope nodded and watched as he headed into his ensuite, stripping his shirt as he went. Her eyes followed the sight of his bare shoulder as it disappeared behind the partially closed door, her stomach fluttering. The sound of running water made her feel oddly breathless.

He’d been in her bathroom multiple times while she was naked. This shouldn’t feel as intimate as it did. There was a wall between them now, between her eyes and his naked body beneath the shower spray.

She sat on the edge of his bed, waiting. In case he needed her, for whatever reason. A cuddle. A weighted blanket. Anything. Her own fear and panic had receded as soon as she saw him in the kitchen, as though her longing had somehow conjured him up, bringing him home to her in a time of need. Penelope curled up on the bed, hugging her own knees, thinking she would focus on his needs instead.

The shower stopped. Colin came back into the room a minute later, wearing a pair of soft grey sweatpants. The corner of his mouth lifted, seeing her perched on his bed. She held out her hand. Colin padded across the room, reaching out to lace his fingers between hers. She pulled him onto the bed, tugging him down until he lay flat on his back.

Wordlessly, Penelope crawled on top of him without being asked. A sigh escaped Colin’s lips as he laid a palm on her back and stared blankly up at the ceiling.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep,” Colin said. His voice was threaded with something more than just weariness. The sentences came out staccato, as if he were forcing them out. “Dunwoody and I got into a huge row. He threatened to quit. I should have held my tongue. I don’t know what came over me.”

Penelope stroked his cheek. She understood anger and the impulse to lash out when you felt like stress would break you apart. It was the defining emotion of every argument she’d had with her mother over the past year. Some things couldn’t be taken back.

“I’m so sorry.” She hoped she wasn’t projecting too much when she continued, “Maybe you both said things you didn’t mean. Maybe he’s at home feeling just as dreadful as you are right now. And once he’s had a chance to cool off, he’ll come to his senses.”

“I wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t. I said some…terrible things. Really low, shitty, awful things.”

Her heart clenched at the raw, vulnerable emotion in his tone. Colin was the kindest, most sensitive person she knew. Of course he would be hurt by a loss of control. “We aren’t always our best in the heat of the moment. We all say things we don’t mean.”

“I don’t feel like I’m ever my best these days. Except when I’m home with you, Pen.”

“Colin.”

“You’re the only thing holding me together. I hate the person I am when I’m not with you. I hate the person I become when I’m at work.”

The words were devastating. “Oh, Colin.”

The magnitude of his confession wasn’t lost on her, but she chose not to dwell upon it at that moment. Colin’s fingers, still intertwined with her own, clenched.

“Colin.”

He refused to look at her, so she sat up, tugging their joined hands to press against his jaw, cupping his face.

His eyes met Penelope’s. He gazed up at her with an adoring, pleading light that she felt completely unworthy of. She wished she knew what to say to comfort him, but no words came forth. Instead, seized by an instinct to distract and soothe, she leaned down and brushed her lips against his.

Colin’s free hand came up to cup the back of Penelope’s head. His mouth caught hers, deepening the second kiss she’d stolen from him, meant to be just as brief as the first. It wasn’t. She clutched at his jaw, letting her lips mould to his, tasting the tea and toothpaste in his mouth.

The world faded to Colin beneath her, his skin washed in the dim glow of his bedside lamp, smooth and warm and solid. She kissed him back, as fervently as he kissed her, on and on and on. She trailed her hands down his bare chest, revelling in the feeling of the coarse hair under her palms.

Her breath came fast, heart pounding beneath her ribcage as she felt his hands slide through her hair, stroking down her back to settle on her waist. A ripple of desire shot through her when his fingers caught on the strands, tugging at her scalp. She moaned into his mouth and Colin apologised by kissing her even more thoroughly. Slanting his mouth across hers, he nipped at her plush bottom lip until she gasped.

When she felt his hand on her breast, she whimpered and pressed wantonly against him, urging him on.

More, her body was demanding. More, more, more.

His breath was hot against her throat, saying things she didn’t want to hear. “Pen, tell me to stop. You have to tell me to stop.”

No, no, no.

“I don’t want you to stop,” she whispered, clutching at his shoulders, desperate for him to continue. “Please. Let me—let me touch you. Let me make you feel better.”

Colin’s mouth flattened, a clear sign he was holding back. He stared up at her, his eyes dark, his hands tightening on her hips, as if afraid to let her go.

After a short pause, he nodded.

She tugged at the waistband of his pyjama pants, her hand slipped down his boxers, and grasped hot, velvet steel.

She swallowed, daring to glance at his face to find him arrested at the sight of his cock in her hand.

He was very big.

And very thick.

Her fingers could barely close around him and she had a brief moment of panic wondering how he’d fit inside her. There wasn’t time to dwell on it, as the world went topsy-turvey and suddenly she found herself on her back, breathless, with Colin above her. His hands scrabbled down her front, undoing the buttons of the pyjama shirt she’d nicked from him, until she was bare before him in nothing but her knickers.

Penelope wanted to cover herself, but his eyes glittered as looked at her, so she forced her hands to remain at her sides. She lay there, still and docile, and allowed him to look to his heart’s content.

“You are so beautiful,” Colin rasped. The naked want in his voice made her tremble. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve dreamt of this? Of you? Naked and in my bed?”

She pulled at his shoulders, drawing him back down to kiss her again, their lips meeting urgently, separating only to draw breath before coming together again. She whined when he pulled away, but he ignored her in favour of closing his lips around one nipple and suckling ardently.

“Oh,” Penelope gasped, every nerve ending singing with pleasure, even though her intimate muscles clenched around nothing. As if sensing her emptiness, his fingers reached down, pushing the fabric of her knickers aside to touch her.

She cried out, shocked and elated at the sensations of his mouth on her breast and the rough pad of his finger exploring the small pool of slickness he had evoked. She was mortified as he stroked though her folds, discovering exactly how wet she was. He had barely done anything except kiss her and she was already drenched.

She realised he had diverted her from her original intentions this evening—of wanting to please him, to take care of him.

“Tell me what to do,” Penelope begged, softly. “I want to please you.”

He detached herself from her breast and stared down at her. His colour was high and there was a kind of disbelief in his gaze that she understood all too well—as though he wasn’t quite sure if she was real. His breathing was shallow, his powerful chest rising and falling quickly. He hooked his fingers on either side of her knickers and tugged at the fabric, she raised her hips and allowed him to pull them down her legs and toss them aside.

“Spread your legs.”

She obeyed, albeit a little timidly.

“Wider. I want to look at you.”

His roughly spoken command made her whole entire body tremble.

She did as he asked, although her hands had come up involuntarily to cover her breasts. She had never felt so exposed. Her heart pounded in her throat.

She felt the bed shift as he moved, his hands on the backs of her thighs, as he spread her thighs wider. There was a long pause and she stared up at the ceiling, nervous and embarrassed—

“Oh!”

The first kiss on her thigh reduced her to shivers.

He started off slow, his lips soft and cajoling, gently feathering teasing kisses to her folds until her hips began to follow the rhythm he set, chasing a firmer touch. Colin obliged, tongue darting out to lick her clit, and Penelope was incapable of thinking of anything but how good his mouth felt.

She would have thought he was too exhausted, but he ate her out enthusiastically, moaning into her cunt and suckling at her folds and her clit. His hands gripped her thighs, forcing her back down to the mattress when her hips bucked in reaction to his tongue slipping inside her.

“Stay still,” he ground out against her clit.

Penelope bit back a whine, trying her best to submit and stay still to please him.

She thought back to their conversation a few weeks ago, when she lay on top of him watching a sexy scene on the television, when Colin all but told her that he enjoyed foreplay and ensuring his partners' needs were met.

She wanted to do the same for him, to listen to him and stay still and let him suck and lick and eat her cunt to his heart’s content. But it was too much. She felt dizzy and desperate for more, for him to fuck her, really fuck her. The pleas came out of her mouth with no hesitation, “Colin, please. Please. Can you—”

His breath hitched at the sound of her begging. Colin inserted a finger inside her and cursed. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

The pressure felt so good, but it wasn’t enough. “I’m ready for you. I don’t need any more foreplay.”

That earned her a second finger, followed by a few rough strokes. She was so wet there was barely any resistance. Colin’s tongue played with her clit, refusing to relent.

“Please,” she begged again. “Please—”

His mouth lifted long enough to rasp out, “You’re really tight, Pen. I’m gonna bruise you if I don’t soften you up first.”

He sounded as desperate as she felt. At least she wasn’t alone in that. She gripped his shoulders, digging her nails slightly into his skin—Colin looked up, his eyes meeting hers, and the look in them made her insides turn into a syrupy mess.

She gasped out, “I’ll be okay, I promise. Please. I want you inside me.”

“Do you? I thought you just wanted to make me feel better.” He crooked his fingers before pulling them out and thrusting back in, catching a sensitive patch that made her moan.

“I did, I mean—Ah—I do.” Tears pricked at the corners of eyes, brought on by the overstimulation.

His mouth and fingers were so good, too good, relentless in the task of bringing her to the brink. Colin sucked gently on her clit, tapping his tongue once, twice. She bucked hard, her pelvis butting his chin.

Colin pushed her back down and said, “What would make me feel better is your tight cunt coming around my fingers. Can you do that for me, Pen?”

“Oh. Oh, God.”

How could she deny him anything. It was never more clear to Penelope that she had been made for this man. Nothing she’d ever experienced had come close to this. Every stroke of his fingers forced a helpless moan from her, his tongue and the unrelenting pressure of his mouth made her body twitch and shudder with hopeless pleasure.

There were lights behind her eyes as she came, hard. Harder than she’d ever come before. Colin continued to work his fingers into her pussy as she erupted around him, drawing out the pleasure, cooing his praise directly to her clit as he lapped at it.

“Good girl,” he said, pulling back when she was done, little tremors racking her body.

He drew up to his knees, drawing her thighs over his own. She was still pulsing inside, her clit throbbing as he drew a tantalising circle over it with the tip of his cock.

“Please,” she whimpered.

She felt him line the thick head up with her wet slit. No more teasing. He was big and hard and he began to inch inside her slowly, carefully.

She wanted to keep her eyes open, she wanted to keep her gaze on Colin, but when he began to press inside, her eyes slammed shut and she inhaled sharply. It had been so long and, even though he’d done his best to prepare her, he was the biggest she’d ever had. The stretch burned and she had to clench her fingers in the sheets.

“Pen—” She could hear the concern in his voice and she shook her head in denial.

“Keep going,” she gasped. “It’s good.” It wasn’t a lie. The stretch was uncomfortable, but she loved it all the same because it was him.

When he was about halfway in, Colin lowered himself until his chest pressed down on hers. He kissed her as he worked himself in, going slowly enough to drive her crazy. She knew he was being careful with her, but she had waited for what felt like a lifetime and she was so desperate for him to fill her, to take her, to know what it was like for Colin Bridgerton to be inside her.

Her hands ran down his back, grabbing at his firm bum…attempting to push him deeper inside her. He growled and reached down and seized her wrists, pinning them down against the bed.

Colin kissed her harder, distracting her momentarily. He nipped at her lower lip. “Stay still.”

The sound of his voice, hot and commanding, made her wetter. They both felt it. Colin cursed as he slipped that last inch inside, bottoming out. The fullness of him inside her—it was so good that Penelope could have wept.

And when Colin started moving, thrusting with long, slow strokes, her mind went blank.

“You feel so good,” he growled, burying his face into her neck. “So soft and tight.”

Warmth suffused her. It no longer hurt; he was making her body sing with joy—and the pleasure doubled knowing that her body pleased him and made him feel good, that he was thinking only of her and what they were doing and nothing else. His thrusts grew harder and faster in tempo, until he was fucking her so hard the bed was creaking.

He groaned, his spine stiffening, and the hands wrapped around her wrists loosened. Penelope immediately reached up, wrapping her arms around his neck, clinging to him as he pounded every last bit of frustration out of his body and into hers. She felt his hands move to her hips, keeping her still as his thrusts grew uneven and messy. He was so close and she wanted it so badly for him.

“Yes, yes, yes, Colin,” Penelope gasped into his ear with each punishing thrust inside her. “Come—come, please. Come inside me.”

His mouth fell open against her shoulder and she felt his strong body shudder all over as he came in hot pulses deep inside her. He muffled his grateful moans against her skin. She held him, kissing the side of his face, his cheeks, wishing selfishly that she could have seen his face, that she could have seen his expression as he fell apart.

Penelope stroked his neck, laying still as he shivered above her, his breathing slowly evening out. Then he slumped over, onto the bed next to her, and the loss of his weight left her feeling bereft. But he cupped her bottom and then urged her back on top of him, nuzzling her cheek with his jaw.

A few moments later, he was fast asleep, hugging her to his chest.

Chapter Text

When Colin woke, the flat was quiet and still.

The memory of the previous night came to him slowly. When he reached out his hand, hoping to encounter warm, silky skin, he found nothing. Frowning, he slowly opened his eyes, sat up in bed and surveyed his bedroom.

Nothing seemed different or out of place.

Except that he was naked.

And alone.

He reached for his phone and his eyes widened at the time. It was close to ten in the morning. He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept this late.

There were already seven missed calls—four from Rae, two from Freddie Cutbill, and one from Stanton. He didn’t usually leave his phone on silent, but after the row with Dunwoody last night he’d left the restaurant, drained and spent, and set his phone to do not disturb.

The number of notifications was jarring. He ignored them in favour of checking his text messages, hoping Penelope had left him something. No such luck. The last text he’d received from her was from last night, when she’d sweetly thanked him for organising her dinner.

He started to type out a message, but his thumb froze over the keyboard.

What the fuck could he even say to her?

Thanks for the epic shag, when can we do it again?

Self-loathing rose up in him and he tossed his phone back on the mattress.

What the hell had he been thinking?

She didn’t deserve this. Penelope had been left in a vulnerable position by her family. Her father was missing and she had been forced to leave her family home. She had nobody in the world she could truly rely upon to look out for her. That was supposed to be his job.

After all, hadn’t he promised Portia Featherington that he would take care of her? He had always secretly detested Penelope’s mother—he despised how she treated Penelope, how she allowed her two older daughters to denigrate and talk down to her youngest child. It had felt so good to look Portia in the eyes and inform her that he was going to be the one to protect Penelope.

His own hypocrisy was a tight, choking grip on his throat.

When Penelope had offered herself up to him after Daphne’s birthday dinner, he should have told her straight away that nothing like that would ever happen. She was his best friend and he would never take advantage of her.

Instead, he’d left her in his flat and tried to stay away from her, throwing himself into work so he’d stop thinking about her tempting offer, about the sounds that came from her parted pink lips as he’d pressed his hard cock against her soft cunt.

He’d been weak. After he had confessed to her how much he hated the person he was turning into, she had looked at him in that magical Penelope way that had always managed to make him feel like he was more. Like he was a good, worthy man. Like he wasn’t just a fraud, a screw-up, the third-born Bridgerton boy who was only good for a fun time and little else.

And then she’d gone and kissed him and after that he had been utterly lost.

She was willing, a voice from the back of his brain reminded him.

That does not make it bloody right, he hissed back.

The voice went silent.

He punched his pillow, taking out his frustrations on it. Then he got up, showered, shaved, and dressed himself for work, all the while castigating himself.

Not just for last night. For everything. For asking Penelope to take her bra off to cuddle him. For asking to shave her legs in the bath, the kisses, ogling her while she’d been intoxicated.

Of course she’d noticed.

Of course she’d thought he had been making overtures to her.

It made him sick to his stomach, wondering if she thought he’d been asking for favours from her in return for staying with him.

The guilt and shame sat heavily in the pit of his stomach as he drove to work. He stared at the traffic lights, his mind a thousand miles away.

Penelope wasn't made for one-night stands or for casual sex. If there was ever a woman who was made to be loved—it was Penelope. He should have resisted, knowing he wasn't in any sort of headspace to start a relationship with her. He was one bad day away from a mental breakdown, for fuck’s sake.

He’d done her a huge disservice. Penelope’s friendship and place in his life was too important for him to risk it all for a relationship that would eventually end. They all did. Colin could not bear the thought that, eventually, he would disappoint her, like he had disappointed all his ex-girlfriends, and that light she held in her eyes for him would slowly be snuffed out.

With that dreadful thought, he walked into Ambrosia, bracing himself for a shitshow. At least he’d slept well—at Penelope’s expense—but that didn’t help the feeling of anxiety that gnawed away at his insides as he jogged up the stairs and into his office.

He was startled when he opened the door and found it already occupied. Dunwoody was leaning against the desk and Rae was sitting in a chair opposite his desk. Both of them stopped talking as soon as he walked through the door.

“Er,” Colin blinked, caught off guard. “Morning.”

“Mornin’, Colin,” Rae said. Then she shot a fierce glare at Dunwoody, who straightened and cleared his throat.

“Morning, Bridgerton.”

An awkward silence settled into the room. Then—

“I sent through a list of stock that we need for the event this weekend,” Dunwoody informed Colin in a mild tone.

Colin could only nod in response, unnerved by his head chef’s placid and polite behaviour. There was another long pause before Colin said, “Okay. Thanks for that. I’ll have a look.”

“Right,” Dunwoody nodded. Then, after a quick glance over at Rae, he added, “Thank you.”

Then he left the office.

Colin looked over at Rae, an eyebrow raised.

She stood up and explained, “He’s sorry for being a twat last night.”

Colin sighed and sat down in his chair. “I was a twat, too.”

“He started it and he knows it,” Rae said, kindly. “We know you’re spread thin. It’s been a stressful week for everyone.”

Then she left, leaving Colin feeling relieved but also slightly perplexed at the turn the morning had taken.

The rest of the day went by strangely smoothly. Cutbill called and told him the new carpenter had finished the work on the banquette and the woodfire oven would be installed tomorrow. The lunch service was uneventful. Dunwoody didn’t even raise his voice when a new waiter messed up his tables’ orders.

Unfortunately, it only left Colin more time to stew and obsess over what had transpired between him and Penelope. He stared mindlessly at his monitor as he lost focus on the email from their accountant he had been trying and failing miserably to absorb.

Memories flitted through his brain, despite his best efforts to avoid them. Penelope’s breathy voice. The softness of her skin. The way she’d looked when he’d laid her out beneath himself and feasted on her. Her look of surprise and gratification. The sweetness of her submission to his every wish. It had been, without a doubt, the best sex he’d ever had. Not just because he hadn’t had any sex in some time—no, last night had been different. He’d been different.

He’d never acted that way with another woman. Being dominating in bed. Letting himself demand things.

Another way in which he’d been selfish and put his needs above Penelope.

And yet she’d responded so sweetly, letting him have his way with her.

“Whatever you need from me. You can take it.”

His body tingled with remembered pleasure, recalling the way her round, perfect breasts had bounced as he’d thrust into her, the sounds she’d made.

Fuck, her soft little moans and gasps had been so hot. She’d been so responsive to him, the way her tight cunt had hugged him, taking him perfectly. Taking all of it inside her snug, scorching, soaked—

His head snapped up as the realisation hit.

They hadn’t used a condom.

Fuck.

Oh, fuck.

A burst of panic seized him. He always used a condom. He was always careful to protect both himself and his partner. How could he have been so careless as to forget, with Penelope of all people? He ran a hand over his face as a fresh wave of guilt washed over him. The ways in which he was screwing up with Penelope just kept fucking piling up.

He couldn’t put it off any longer. He had to talk to her. Find out how she was feeling and let her know he’d messed up. He’d take all responsibility for it. He should have protected her.

After ten minutes of typing and retyping, he finally sent out a text to her:

[From Colin at 4:03PM]

What time are you getting home?

He reread the message and winced at how abrupt it was. But it was too late for regret. Colin waited for a response, his heart in his throat.

When her reply finally popped up, his hands trembled a little as he opened his messages.

[From Penelope at 4:10PM]

A little later, I think. I’m going to a work event tonight with my colleagues.

He tried not to read too much into the message. Her response was so normal. So casual even. As if he hadn’t fucked her raw and come inside her last night.

[From Colin at 4:10PM]

Where are you going? I could pick you up if you’d like.

After. I mean.

When you’re done.

[From Colin at 4:15PM]

Pen?

[From Penelope at 4:45PM]

Sorry! I got distracted.

We’re going to this new bar in Covent Garden called the Holburne.

You don’t have to do that. I know you’re busy.

I’ll probably just take the tube or share an uber with my colleague.

Perhaps she wanted to avoid him? Irritated and unsettled by the thought, Colin sent a final reply that booked no argument.

[From Colin at 4:15PM]

I’ll pick you up around 8.

🎀 🎀 🎀

The Holburne was a cosy new bar that had only been open for a few months. It was sleek and eclectic, with contemporary botanical paintings lining the walls and dried flower displays and foliage on almost every available surface. Bold leopard-print barstools with gnarled metal legs inspired by tree branches lined the bar covered with large bronze leaves. Distressed leather chairs were littered around the space.

The place was packed when Colin arrived. Any other time he would have perused their cocktail and food menu with professional interest, but not this evening. This evening, his eyes zeroed in on Penelope, who was tucked away in an alcove on a velvet sofa. Her red hair stood out amongst the crowd—sitting between a young man in a wheelchair and a young woman with waist long cornrows who was talking animatedly.

Feeling a little out of place, having come uninvited, Colin headed for the bar. He could use a little bit of liquid courage while he figured out what to say to Penelope. He ordered a drink and sat nursing it, flicking his gaze over his shoulder from time to time in Penelope’s direction. She hadn’t noticed him in the crowd. He grew antsy, a part of him willing her to look up and see him.

A familiar, annoying voice on the periphery of his surroundings distracted him from watching Penelope. He’d recognize that smug, self-satisfied tone anywhere.

Ugh. Cressida Cowper.

He’d forgotten she was one of Penelope’s coworkers. Of course she was here, too.

“Did you see the shoes she wore yesterday?”

To say he loathed Cressida was an understatement. The hell she’d put him through was something he’d never forgive and never forget.

Once upon a time, Cressida and Fife had been a thing. It was over almost as soon as it began. Colin gritted his teeth, remembering how unfair all of it had been. People went through bad breakups all the time—it didn’t mean they had the right to exact revenge by any means possible.

Ambrosia had been collateral damage, the main victim of Cressida’s slander and lies. She’d spread rumours online about getting ill from some bad oysters—completely untrue—and caused a PR nightmare for Colin to deal with while Fife fucked off, taking no responsibility whatsoever for his part in the situation.

Colin had tried to reason with her, but she’d brushed him off, saying Fife should be the one coming to her on his knees to beg for forgiveness. In the end, Ambrosia suffered and it had taken a while for their reputation to recover.

“That bag,” Cressida’s companion was speaking now and the two were looking back at the table where their colleagues sat. “It looks like it came from the charity shop.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if it did,” Cressida said, snickering. “Her family is riddled with debt. I shan’t say anymore, but…”

“Oh, you must! You can’t just drop that and go mum!”

“Weeeeelllll…” Cressida said, teasingly. She leaned her head towards her friend and whispered, sotto voice, “You didn’t hear it from me...But her father filed for bankruptcy and their house is being auctioned off by the bank.”

Colin tensed.

“You’re joking!”

“Cross my heart,” the bitch replied.

Colin didn’t want to sit there and listen to anymore horrid gossip about Penelope’s family. He fired off a text to Penelope.

[From Colin at 8:15PM]

I’m at the bar.

He watched her reach for her phone and check it. Then her head swivelled in his direction and caught on him. Their eyes met and, even across the darkened room, he saw her cheeks flush pink before she glanced back down at her phone.

[From Penelope at 8:16PM]

Okay. I’ll meet you outside in ten.

Ten minutes later, Colin joined Penelope on the pavement. Her colleague, the young man in the wheelchair, surveyed him with a keen-eyed interest as he approached.

“Hi,” he said. “Colin. Nice to meet you.”

“Remington,” said the young man, shaking Colin’s hand.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Colin offered a friendly smile.

Remington raised an eyebrow: “Really? Because I haven’t heard anything about you.” He said in a sly tone. He glanced at Penelope and added, “So, this is the mysterious man you’ve been hiding from all of us.”

“Colin is my flatmate, Remy.”

He didn’t like the pet name, and didn’t like being called a flatmate either, although he supposed technically it was true.

“You have a familiar face,” Remington said, looking at Colin thoughtfully. “Have our paths crossed before?”

“I run a restaurant. Ambrosia. In Soho. Maybe you’ve seen me behind the bar?”

“Oh,” Both of Remington’s eyebrows rose up on his forehead. “Colin Bridgerton.”

“In the flesh,” Colin replied in what he hoped was an easygoing manner.

“You know, I’m working on a piece about London’s young entrepreneurs. I’d love to interview you for it. It would give your restaurant some free publicity. What do you think?”

Colin was saved from having to answer when Remington’s UberWAV arrived. He wheeled himself up the ramp of the vehicle and got himself and the chair safely strapped in. Just as the driver was closing the van doors, he turned his head to call out to Colin—“I’ll send you an email next week about the article! Give it some thought!”

Penelope waved him off and then she followed Colin to his car.

“Sorry,” she said, as they buckled their seatbelts. “Remy can come on strong.”

He didn’t want to talk about Remington. Colin flicked his shoulder in a shrug. “He seems nice.”

It was faint praise. Penelope settled into her seat, fiddling with the strap of her handbag resting on her lap. He noticed that the leather was old and fraying and he frowned, reminded of Cressida’s bitchy words.

Now that he had Penelope alone, he didn’t know how to broach the subject.

“How are you feeling?” he managed to get out, after a long spell of silence.

As if sensing his tension, Penelope shifted in her seat. She looked at him and replied softly, “I’m fine.”

He clenched his fingers on the steering wheel. “I wanted to message you. All day today. But I had no bloody clue what I wanted to say.”

It took a few seconds for her to respond. “Just be honest with me.”

He took a deep breath. “I…I feel like I owe you an apology. I feel like I owe you about a hundred apologies.”

Maybe he imagined it—the way her face fell—because Penelope looked away quickly, before turning back, “You have nothing to apologise for. It…you were wonderful. I had a lovely time with you.”

“Pen. Fuck.”

Her hands nervously plucked at her bag. “What’s wrong? Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” he said, unclenching his jaw. “It’s just…when you say things like that to me, it makes me lose my mind. I didn’t use a condom last night. I’m sorry. I was...I don’t know what came over me. But I’m clean. I’ve never had unprotected sex before, I promise.”

Penelope nodded. Then, in a reassuring tone, she told him, “I’m on birth control. I take the pill to regulate my cycle. I’ve never had sex without protection, either.”

This wasn’t going right. She shouldn’t be reassuring him. He felt even worse. “It shouldn’t have happened, Pen. I’m sorry.”

A tinge of annoyance crept into her voice. “Why do you…why do you keep apologising?”

He looked at her rigid posture, the way she stared at the traffic in front of them, and wanted to curse. “Because I’m supposed to be taking care of you, not taking advantage of you!”

Her head swivelled back to him. “Colin, you did not take advantage of me.”

“Yes, I did. Penelope, you are my oldest and best friend in the world. What the hell was I even thinking? I am in no place to give you a proper relationship. My life is a complete and utter mess right now—”

“Colin. Take a breath.”

The expression of pity on her face was unbearable.

He wanted to crawl out of his own skin. “Sorry. Sorry, I’m just...Pen. You mean so much to me. I don’t want to ruin us. I don’t want to ruin what we have. I’m terrified I’ve gone and done it anyways.”

“You haven’t ruined anything, Colin. Last night was lovely. It was what we both needed at the time. I was the one who…I mean, I was the one that started it. It doesn’t have to mean anything more than that if you don’t want it to. I would never expect anything from you because of it.”

That upset him. Penelope had no expectations from him—why didn’t she expect more? Was it because it was him? Why didn’t she expect more when she deserved so much?

She took a deep breath and released it, the sound loud inside the silent confines of the car.

“Colin…we can just put it behind us.” His blood seemed to rush in his ears as she spoke. “If you’d prefer. We’ll pretend like it never happened.”

Pretend like it never happened. The words felt like a blow. He had no idea what he’d expected her response to be, but this wasn’t it.

She wanted him to pretend none of it had happened? The feeling of her body beneath him? The fiery touch of her skin and the mindblowing intimacy of her kisses? Pretend like their friendship hadn’t irrevocably, intangibly changed forever?

He swallowed heavily. “Would you…” He shook his head and licked his lips, correcting himself mid-sentence. “Could you do that?”

She barely hesitated. “If that’s what it took for us to remain friends. Yes. I could. Could you?”

Colin didn’t answer.

The ride back to the flat was silent. Colin was lost in his own thoughts.

He glanced at Penelope, saw her staring out the car window. London street lights danced in colourful flickers upon the reflection of her face. The heavy set of her brows as she curled up in her seat, the lines of her body stiff. The conversation seemed to settle into the marrow of their relationship, changing it, and he wished he could see what she was thinking, know what she felt. The two feet of space in between the driver seat and the passenger seat felt like a gaping chasm.

By the time they arrived inside the flat, Penelope’s brow was smooth once more and her face calm, unperturbed. She set down her things—keys, handbag, shoes—and padded into the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of water. She offered to do the same for him.

She acted normal. Like their conversation had never happened.

Pretend, she’d said.

She’d given him an out, but he felt ill at the thought of taking it. Frustration grew and grew inside him, snuffing out everything but the huge, discontented feeling that everything was wrong.

He couldn’t put it behind him. They couldn’t go back.

Penelope put on the kettle and asked him if he wanted tea and biscuits. She spoke like she always did, her voice sweet and friendly.

She retired to her bedroom after making each of them a mug of tea leaving him alone.

Colin stared into the milky contents of his drink. The silence of the flat set his teeth on edge. Was this what it would be then? Penelope giving him space so that in time, they could forget what had happened? The two of them dancing around each other with a veneer of politeness whilst ignoring the enormous elephant in the room?

The thought made him physically ill.

His feet took him towards Penelope’s bedroom on instinct. The door was shut tightly, but he did not even knock before twisting the doorknob and walking inside.

Penelope was seated at the desk, her laptop open, she looked up in astonishment as he burst into the bedroom and blurted out, “I can’t.”

“Colin, what—”

His heart was pounding a fierce rhythm in his chest like he’d just sprinted a mile and his palms were sweaty. “I can’t pretend. I don’t want to pretend. Not with you, Penelope.”

Her expression softened immediately. He wondered what he looked like to her, bursting into her bedroom and breathlessly sprouting declarations. Like a madman, probably.

He moved to where she was seated and sunk to his knees before her. “My life outside this flat is madness. I can barely keep everything from falling apart. But here—with you—it’s peace. It’s calm. I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to lose you. Please.”

Colin wasn’t even sure what he was begging her for, but she seemed to understand.

“Colin,” the simple way she spoke his name, filled with infinite tenderness, made him want to weep with relief. “What is it you want?”

I want you. Even now, his body was reacting to her proximity. Longing to touch her as intimately as he had the previous night. He would never be able to go back…he’d always think back to last night and ache for her.

He laid his head on her lap and her thumb gently stroked his jaw.

“I don’t want to try and put it behind us. But…I also don’t want to hurt you,” Colin confessed.

He desperately wanted the intimacy and closeness they shared, but he was terrified of disappointing her. He couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud.

Penelope was silent for a while as she considered his words. She continued to touch him though, soft strokes of her thumb over his neck, his jaw, the sensitive rim of his ear. He felt himself unspooling, the tenseness in his body softening with each brush of her fingers over his skin.

“I meant what I said, Colin,” she said softly. “I don’t regret anything. And I don’t have any expectations. I’m glad I was there for you last night, that you didn’t have to be alone. And I know you would never do anything to hurt me on purpose. That’s not the person you are, Colin Bridgerton.”

“You have such faith in me. I wish I was worthy of it.”

“My faith isn’t blindly given. You’ve earned it.”

There was a moment of silence as they both simply basked in the warmth of being in each other’s presence.

“I’m afraid,” he admitted, both to himself and to her. “I don’t want to make our lives even more complicated than they already are.”

“Let’s not overcomplicate matters, then,” Penelope said, her tone growing decided. “Let’s just agree that when we’re both here in this flat together, we’ll follow our instincts and do what feels good to both of us.”

“Is it really that simple?” Colin wondered.

“Why can’t it be?” Penelope asked.

Was she right? They deserved one uncomplicated thing in their lives, didn’t they? Why couldn’t they continue to be there for one another, to be each other’s port in the storm?

Colin felt such a rush of relief, gratitude towards Penelope. How clever she was, how brave and warm and good.

Yes, they deserved this. He would give Penelope everything she wanted and needed, to the very best of his ability. Colin knew it wasn’t a fair deal for her, but he’d make sure she would never regret it.

If she changed her mind, or no longer wanted this with him, he’d let her go without a fight. For as long as he could have Penelope, he’d treasure her.

He lifted his head and his arms tightened around her waist instinctively.

Penelope brushed her palm against his cheek, looking down at him. Her eyes were gentle and patient. “What are you thinking?”

He kissed her palm. A flicker of heat passed through him at the intake of breath she took. The room took on a tense stillness as Penelope waited for his answer.

“I’m wondering how you’re feeling,” he said, keeping his voice low and soft. “Because I wasn’t exactly gentle with you last night. Towards the end.”

He felt her shiver at the words.

Penelope shifted beneath his grip and admitted, “I…I’m a little sore.”

“You didn’t come,” he said, bluntly.

She blinked, a flush rising on her cheeks. “I did.”

“I meant when I was inside you.”

The flush spread to her throat. He watched in fascination, marvelling at how creamy and sensitive her skin was.

Her blue eyes glimmered. “I didn’t mind.”

“You liked it.”

“I did.”

There was a long pause.

“What are you thinking now?”

He spoke in a low, regretful tone. “I’m thinking you’re too sore for me to have you again.”

Penelope’s breath hitched. She made a soft, sexy sound that sparked desire in him. It rose hot and fast, altering the mood in the room entirely. The space between them all but crackled with sexual tension.

She was still wearing the soft knit top she’d worn to work, but she’d changed out of her tights and skirt into a pair of comfy joggers. When he reached for the waistband of the sweatpants, she allowed him to tug them down her legs along with her knickers.

He spread her thighs with his hands and looked down at her soft pink cunt framed with red curls. He tore his gaze away to stare intently into her eyes.

“I’m going to take very, very good care of you, Penelope,” he vowed solemnly.

Then, he sealed that promise with a kiss between her thighs.

Chapter Text

The following morning, Penelope was in the middle of breakfast when she received a call from Remington.

“Penelope Featherington, you are a dark horse.”

“What?”

“How long have you been shacking up with Mr Tall, Dark, and Loaded?”

“My mum and I weren’t getting along and Colin offered to let me stay with him. I’ve known him since we were kids, Remy.”

“Are you sure?” Remington asked, sounding dubious. “Is he seeing someone right now? If not, you need to secure that bag, Penelope.”

“No, he’s not seeing anybody right now,” Penelope replied. “Did you call me just to bother me about Colin?”

“Has he said anything to you about taking up my offer on the article? I’ve managed to get twenty-five interviewees. I only need five more.”

“Mmm, no, he didn’t say anything to me about it.”

“Well do your good friend Remington a favour and give him a little push on it. It’s a puff piece. Two hundred words on him and his restaurants. It’s free publicity. What’s not to love?”

“Okay, I’ll remind him,” Penelope promised. “But I won’t push him on it.”

She ended the call and stared down at her bowl of half eaten granola and yoghurt.

She was doing a lot of skirting around the truth with her friends at work. She didn’t want people to start inquiring after her or her dad, to look at her with sad or pitying expressions. She wanted to go to the office and do her job and to do it well. She wanted to be the capable and efficient Penelope she could be while she was at work. Not the exhausted, overwhelmed and emotionally fraying Penelope she allowed only Colin to see when they were at home. But it seemed like her personal and her work life was starting to bleed into one another despite her best efforts.

But at least she hadn’t lied when Remington asked if Colin was seeing anybody. He wasn’t. What they were doing was only temporary. After all, Colin…was a successful businessman and the potential subject of an article Remington was writing for The Ton. And Penelope…well, she was Penelope.

She’d never expected to have anything more than casual friendship with Colin. Her adoration of him was a tightly held secret, one she kept close to her chest, and she was under no illusion that this would ever change.

For as long as he’d have her, she’d be his. Whatever he was willing to give to her, she would take and give back tenfold. His admissions of guilt and fear had bruised her heart. He was so good and so kind; she was terrified of adding to his already burdensome schedule.

Eloise would be home in a few months’ time. The last time they had spoken—when Penelope had to make up a plausible excuse for why Colin had been in the bathroom while she was taking a bath—Eloise had reassured Penelope that they would find a flat to live in together when she returned to England. Contessa would be open by then and the most stressful period for Colin would be over. He would have no need for her anymore and, once she moved out of this flat and put some distance between them, they would resume their old friendship.

And for Penelope, she would be content that for a few months of her life, she had belonged to Colin Bridgerton.

In the afternoon, she received a message from the concierge informing her that a package had been delivered for her. She was surprised. The brown box waiting for her downstairs was nondescript and held no clues as to what was inside.

Back in the flat, Penelope opened the plain brown box and discovered a smaller, prettier pink box wrapped in a silk black bow with the logo stamped on the top in elegant cursive font: Agent Provocateur.

Her mouth fell open.

Penelope opened the box, peeled back the layer of tissue paper, and breathed in sharply at the sight of the lacy black bralette and matching thong that lay within.

Was he…expecting her to wear this for him?

She ran her fingers over the scalloped lace embroidery and the tiny black bows on the straps. It looked like it was the perfect size, too. She imagined Colin picking out undergarments—sexy, lacy ones—for her and a hot blush crept over her cheeks, and she pressed her palms to her face to cool them down.

[From Penelope at 2:34PM]

Colin, I just received the package

You don’t have to keep giving me gifts

[From Colin at 2:34PM]

It’s more for me than for you.

She hesitated, trying to form a response, but Colin sent another message:

[From Colin at 2:36PM]

Did the gift make you uncomfortable?

[From Penelope at 2:36PM]

No

It didn’t, it’s beautiful.

[From Colin at 2:37PM]

Good

Because I’m going to keep wanting to buy you things.

I love spoiling you

I love that I get to be the one that spoils you

[From Penelope at 2:39PM]

Thank you.

[From Colin at 2:39PM]

I don’t want this to be all about what I want.

It shouldn’t just be all about me.

What about you?

[From Penelope at 2:43PM]

I don’t think anyone would call your performance last night all about you.

The insides of her thighs were sore from the stubble burn he’d given her from eating her out so thoroughly the night before. Colin had been determined to make her come with his mouth, over and over again, until she all but passed out from pleasure and exhaustion. She felt lightheaded just from the memory.

[From Colin at 2:45PM]

I am serious tho

What do you want, Pen?

We agreed to take care of each other

He was right. They had agreed to take care of each other. She was grateful for his attention and care and had no reason to ask for more.

[From Penelope at 2:46PM]

I enjoy everything you do to me.

The way you take care of me

[From Colin at 2:46PM]

I love taking care of you too

[From Penelope at 2:47PM]

You always make me feel good

[From Colin at 2:47PM]

Do I?

[From Penelope at 2:48PM]

Yes

Last night and the other night too

[From Colin at 2:49PM]

You were so good last night.

And the other night too.

When I told you to cum on my fingers and you did

I almost lost my mind you were so hot

[From Penelope at 2:50PM]

I like it when you tell me what to do

[From Colin at 2:50PM]

I like it when you give in to me

[From Penelope at 2:51PM]

What time will you be home tonight?

[From Colin at 2:52PM]

Not soon enough

But as soon as I can get away, I will.

Will you be home, waiting for me?

[From Penelope at 2:54PM]

Yes Colin

I’ll be home

[From Colin at 2:55PM]

Good girl.

🎀 🎀 🎀

Penelope was waiting for Colin when he came home that evening, later than usual. It was close to midnight. She hadn’t been able to sleep. She’d been too keyed up, her stomach fluttering anxiously at the thought of seeing him again after receiving his gift earlier that day.

She heard the elevator doors opening and some part of her feared that he was too tired, that he would take himself into his bedroom straight away instead of greeting her. But when she heard his footsteps approach her room, her heartbeat picked up.

When he stepped into her bedroom, she turned away from her laptop to greet him with a shy smile.

His tired, handsome face lit up at the sight of her and she stood to give him a hug.

“Hello,” Colin leaned down and took her mouth in a scorching kiss. His tongue slipped between her lips and Penelope gasped and opened her mouth instinctively, never one to deny him anything. When he finally pulled back, her lips chased after his before she came to her senses. Her eyes fluttered open and she stared up at him.

“How was your day?” He smiled down at her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“It was good,” Penelope replied, a little dazed. She cleared her throat. “I did some work on an assignment. Oh. Remington called me to ask me to remind you to give that article he’s writing some more thought.”

His eyes tightened at the mention of her coworker.

“Do you want me to give the interview?”

“It’s completely up to you,” Penelope said, rubbing a palm soothingly over his chest. “But he’s been a good friend to me, so I promised him I would speak to you about it.”

Was it her imagination or did he seem a bit…touchy?

“How come you never mentioned me to him? You talk to me about your co-workers all the time, but he didn’t know that I even existed.”

“Of course he knows you exist, Colin, he wants to interview you,” Penelope said lightly.

Colin’s expression didn’t ease up. “You know what I mean.”

“Neither Remington nor Emma knew about my living here with you,” Penelope admitted. “They thought I was still living at home with my mum.”

“You haven’t told anyone you’re staying with me?”

“Not really,” she answered, truthfully. “I don’t really talk about my personal life with my coworkers.”

She left it at that and Colin took the hint, letting the subject drop.

“Are you ready for bed?” he asked.

“I was about to take a bath,” Penelope replied. The words had the effect she wanted on him: his jaw relaxed and his eyes darkened slightly with interest.

“Join me?” she asked, bashfully.

Colin nodded.

She’d expected him to leave her to pour them some wine or champagne as he usually did, but he followed her into her bathroom. She busied herself with turning on the tap and pouring bath salts and foaming bubble bath soap into the hot water.

When Penelope straightened and turned she blinked at the sight of Colin’s bare torso. As she watched, he stripped off pants, draping them on the bench. His socks and watch came off next. She did her best not to stare when he turned around, cock already at half-mast.

Then, Colin stepped forward and reached for the tie belt at her waist and untied it. She let out a small sound as the silky robe fell open. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Her breasts caught his gaze and he cupped one, briefly, before pushing the robe off her shoulders. The silk fell to the ground, leaving Penelope completely naked except for the scrunchie that secured her hair in a messy bun at the top of her head. Her hands came up automatically to cover herself, but Colin’s command stopped her.

“Don’t.”

Her arms fell to her sides, she bit her lip and averted her eyes as he stroked his fingers over the sensitive skin of her neck, her collarbone.

“Don’t hide from me,” Colin said softly. “I spent all day thinking about you.”

Penelope wished she’d thought to dim the lights in the bathroom, but she held still and tried her best to relax. If Colin wished to stare at her body then she would let him, but she couldn’t look him in the face or meet his eyes. It was already so intimate. She’d never in her life stood bare-arsed naked in front of another man before.

Once the bath was filled halfway, Colin climbed into the tub, holding out his hand to help her in as well. She sat between his open legs, back to his front.

“Let me help you wash up,” he said, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

Before she could respond, firm hands spread her knees, opening up her thighs. She resisted the urge once more to cover herself up with a hand, knowing it would be futile. Colin squeezed body wash into the pink shower puff resting on the side of the tub and proceeded to leave soapy trails across Penelope’s body…from her neck to her clavicle and then carefully over each breast.

“Lift them,” he instructed, his chest pressed hotly against her back. “So I can get underneath.”

Penelope shivered. Colin was different tonight, seeming to have taken her words to heart. He’d kissed her until she was breathless, stripped her bare, and then climbed into the bath with her. His insistent touches were heady and overwhelming and she was left helplessly turned on by his commanding tone. There was no opportunity to overthink or even consider refusing his requests.

I like it when you give into me.

Slowly, Penelope obeyed, cupping her own breasts in her palms. She couldn’t quite cover them fully. Colin groaned at the sight, using his free hand to pinch lightly at the nipple that peeked out between her little fingers. She bit her lower lip, arching forward, feeling the pinch travel directly from her chest to the spot between her thighs where she was growing slick.

With rather meticulous care, Colin stroked the underside of her breasts with the loofah, making sure to cover every inch of tender skin. Once he was done, he rose slightly on his knees, craning his neck over her shoulder for a better view and said, “You can let go now.”

She did, and felt him swallow as he watched her breasts bounce as they dropped from her palms.

“One more time,” he said, his voice rough. “Please.”

Her breasts were heavy and sensitive and letting them drop felt strange and mortifying, but how was she supposed to say no?

She cupped them again and, once she was sure he was ready, she let go. Colin’s fingers dug into her thigh and she gasped a little.

“That’s so fucking hot,” he praised. “You’re gorgeous.”

She thought he might want to see it one more time, but Colin decided to apply himself to the task of cleaning her breasts thoroughly himself, pressing his thumb against her nipples through the puff netting now and then. Penelope was panting by the time he was done.

He ran the puff down her belly and this time, she raced ahead of him, her hand hovering over her intimate parts. “Not the puff, please. It’s too rough.”

Colin nodded, running the tip of his nose along the skin of her neck. He let the puff fall into the tub and slid his palm up her thigh. “Is this okay?”

“Mmm,” she said, the sound throaty.

His fingers caressed the sensitive skin at the apex of her thighs, just shy of her pussy.

“You know, I was kind of hoping to come home to you wearing my gift,” Colin said, the low timbre of his voice in her ear sending shivers down her neck.

“Um,” Penelope floundered for a moment, distracted by his hands tracing slippery, soapy circles on the insides of her thigh. “I…perhaps not tonight. I need to shave before I can wear it.”

His fingers sifted through the short trimmed hair covering her pussy. “Shave here?”

She held her breath and nodded.

“Hand me your razor, Pen.”

“Wha—what?”

“I’ll help you.”

“Now?” she squeaked.

“Yes.” She bit back a moan as he kissed her throat. “No time like the present.”

He pulled away and she felt cold air hit her back. Her nipples tightened even as she mourned the loss of his skin against hers.

“Turn around,” he instructed in that increasingly familiar, commanding tone that made her heart flutter. His hand patted his thighs. “Sit here and face me. So I can see.”

Her pussy throbbed. She did as he instructed, her stomach doing crazy somersaults at the sight of his erection. She perched on his thighs, so firm and solid beneath her, and watched as he reached down to unplug and drain the water.

There was nothing to obscure his gaze now, especially when he gripped her by the hips and urged her to lean back for a better viewing angle. Penelope gripped the sides of the tub for balance, biting her lower lip as Colin studied her pussy, running his fingers through her wet pubic hair.

He reached for the bottle of body wash, lathering it up in his palm. He applied the lather to her pussy, working it into the hair. Then he took up the razor and gently began to shave her—carefully, methodically, using his fingers to pull the skin of her outer labia taut.

It didn’t escape her notice that his cock had gotten even harder. He was fully erect, but he barely paid it any mind at all, completely focused on the task at hand. When he was done shaving, he turned on the faucet, holding his palm beneath it to cup a handful of water. Carefully, he rinsed the remaining body wash off her mound.

She was breathless when he looked up to meet her gaze, waiting for her judgement of his work.

“Thank you,” Penelope said, not knowing what else to say. His scrutiny made her feel shy and fluttery, and there was no hiding how much his continued petting of her most intimate parts had aroused her.

“My pleasure,” he said, giving her bare pussy a final, lingering stroke with his fingers. “Let’s get out of the bath.”

She lifted herself off his thighs, a little unsteadily. Colin got out of the tub first, towelling himself off roughly. Then he turned back to her, helped her out, and wrapped her inside a fresh, snowy white towel. She melted willingly into his arms, letting him dry her off.

The towel, as soft as it was, still felt rough against her inner thighs and freshly shaven skin. Colin murmured an apology against her lips, kissing her until she almost forgot where she was. Her mind was filled with him again—his broad shoulders and hot mouth and enticing scent. She felt his fingers tangle in her hair, tugging until the scrunchie holding it up in a bun came loose and the entire length came tumbling down around her shoulders.

Colin broke the kiss, running his hands through her hair. He looked enchanted by it, as though he could play with it for hours and not get bored.

He led her into her bedroom and Penelope retrieved the pink box from her wardrobe.

She put on the thong first. Colin watched intently as she pulled the bralette on next, sliding the straps over her arms before tucking her breasts one by one into the flimsy, unpadded cups. Her nipples peaked through the lace, still rosy from his thorough cleansing. She reached behind herself to clasp it, but her hair was in the way clinging to her damp skin, making it difficult.

"Let me help," said Colin, breaking the silence.

Penelope went still, her breath quickening as Colin placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her gently around. He swept her hair off her neck, piling it over one shoulder, baring her back to his gaze. Pinpricks seemed to follow his touch as he gingerly tugged the ends of the bralette together, sliding the tiny hooks into place with more dexterity than she would have expected from him. Most men were rubbish at dealing with bras, but Colin was good at everything.

She turned around again and Colin looked at her appraisingly, his eyes taking in the sight with unabashed interest.

"You look beautiful," he said. "It suits you."

She felt beautiful.

"Thank you," he added.

"For what?"

"For indulging me." He spoke slowly, voice a little husky. "Giving you things makes me happy."

A frisson danced down her spine. The look he gave her was bone-meltingly sweet and threatened to unlock a torrent of too-sentimental, embarrassing words from her. I’d do anything to make you happy. Anything at all. I love you.

“Anytime,” she whispered, as Colin stroked the curve of her hip.

She reached for his hand and tugged him towards the bed, eager to slide beneath the cool sheets with him, but he resisted.

“Wait,” he said, pushing her into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. “You need to be moisturised."

Colin retrieved the body lotion and got to work, massaging the scented product onto her feet and ankles. Then her shins and calves. Then her knees, and the tops of her thighs. He nudged them apart, applied more lotion—gently—onto her inner thighs. Then, by mutual, unspoken consent, Penelope spread her knees further, and Colin hooked the crotch of the thong aside…carefully applying the silky lotion over her mound, careful not to get it into her folds.

By the time he was finished, her clit was pulsing, longing for his touch. Colin only withdrew his hand and set the lotion onto her nightstand.

"I was hoping for another movie night," he said, taking her hand. “I’m so tired, I don’t think I can sleep.”

She tried to not show her disappointment. “A movie sounds good.”

Penelope didn't put on a robe or any clothes over her new underwear. Colin pulled on a black pair of briefs but nothing else.

Hand in hand, they walked to the living room, and Colin turned on the telly as Penelope plumped the sofa cushions. He lay down, waiting for her to join him.

She meant to lie on top of him as usual, but Colin pulled her back flush to his chest, spooning her instead. He released a contented grunt and slipped his hand around her waist, dipping below the waistband of her lacy knickers. Petting her where she was newly bare, the skin so very delicate and sensitive.

Penelope shuddered.

“You’re so soft here,” he murmured, stroking gently. “So smooth.”

The tip of his finger almost brushed her clit. Her breath caught. She was certain Colin felt it, because his thumb swiped lower, catching the little bud on a downstroke.

The pleasure that shot through her was almost as potent as the wetness that pooled between her legs.

Colin retracted his fingers, rubbing a soothing little circle over her mound. “Are you still sore?”

She hesitated for only a split second. It had been two days, but she hadn’t had sex for a long time before that, and Colin was a lot bigger than any other man she’d been with. But she wanted him. He’d wound her up in the bath and the needy pulsing between her legs was all she could focus on.

“No,” she lied.

His fingers traced along her wet slit, one finger slowly entering her. She closed her eyes, lips parting, a little moan working its way up her throat. Her inner muscles twinged, but clenched down on his finger anyway and, when he added the second, she couldn’t help but let out a pained little whine.

Colin’s fingers stilled. “Does it hurt?”

Nothing she couldn’t handle. It was a good sort of hurt. An ache that soothed the bigger, worse ache inside her: wanting him.

“No,” she lied again.

He was silent for a moment, his thumb toying with her clit. Then he said, “My wallet’s on the table. Open it up for me. There’s a condom in the back pocket.”

She reached over and picked up his wallet, the leather soft and supple to the touch. Excitement and anticipation shot through her hands, a little shaky as she withdrew the little foil packet. She handed it to Colin.

The sound of the foil ripping seemed louder than the telly, somehow. Penelope waited, holding her breath, as Colin shifted behind her and rolled on the condom, then the thick head of his cock was prodding at her entrance.

God, he was big.

She hid her wince in the sofa cushion, refusing to make any noise, in case he realised she was still sore. She tried her best to relax, to not tense up as he slowly and carefully pushed inside. He barely managed to work the tip in when it became too much and Penelope let out a little whimper of distress.

Colin paused. He murmured soothingly in her ear and reached for her clit, circling it, sending tingles of pleasure down her spine. “You’re not wet enough,” he said, rubbing her faster. The veins on his forearms stood out as he toiled away at making her wet enough to take him further.

He slid in another inch, stretching her sore muscles in a way that was half-pleasure, half-pain. The deft fingers at her clit helped soften the way, but it was still a struggle.

“You’re so tight,” he grunted. His breath was hot, wafting against her throat. She could feel his heartbeat against her back. Firm and throbbing, like his cock. “Can you take a little more?”

She wanted all of it. She nodded, burying her face into the cushion. Colin pinched her clit, lightly, and her hips jerked. He pressed in further, murmuring heated words of praise, calling her a good girl with a soft and tight pussy, telling her she felt incredible. It was too much, combined with his stroking and pinching of her clit. Penelope came, suddenly and swiftly—

Colin grunted again, feeling her muscles clamp around his half-inserted cock. He pressed just a tiny bit deeper, waiting for her to finish coming, groaning her name and crooning more praise: “Good girl. You came on my cock.”

He coaxed her further, his voice seeming to turn on the faucets, making her so wet and slick it wasn’t long before he was fully bottoming out inside her.

“Yes,” he groaned, his voice equal parts victorious and appreciative. “I’m all the way in, Pen.”

Her thoughts were incoherent, her brain melted by the sheer pleasure of receiving Colin’s praise and Colin’s cock and fuck, she was coming again—she was just as surprised as he was by the second, cresting orgasm that washed over her. She came harder than the first time, her head emptying of all thoughts, every inch of her body tingling with overwhelming sensation.

It was too much. She pushed Colin’s fingers away from her oversensitized clit, cries and moans babbling from her mouth, little no!s that had Colin stroking her hips and shoulder in mild alarm, her name on his lips.

“It’s too much,” she sobbed.

“Okay,” he crooned, his fingers brushing lightly through her hair. “I won’t move, Pen. Just… just like this, okay?”

He gripped her hip with one palm, holding her still as she continued to vibrate, her cunt pulsing around his deeply embedded cock.

“Just like this,” he repeated, pulling her closer, wrapping his arm around her waist. Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes. She curled up slightly, her knees tucking themselves against his arm.

Colin held on tight, still murmuring soothing words of praise against her neck, refusing to let go. She didn’t want him to. Her pussy ached, stretched to the brim, but she knew it would hurt worse if he pulled away and she was empty.

They lay together, Penelope trembling. Slowly, her breathing evened out and she relaxed enough to uncurl her legs. The movement shifted Colin’s penetration, sending jolts through her. A little whine emerged from her throat. Colin soothed her, stroking his warm palm across her chest. His hand moved lower, until he cupped one breast and squeezed it gently. For some reason, it felt reassuring.

She tilted her head back, turning to look at him for the first time since he entered her.

His eyes were warm and compelling and full of desire. “You’re doing so well. You feel so good.”

Penelope exhaled, knowing he was being extraordinarily patient with her. She confessed, embarrassed and shy, “Colin, I…I’m too sore.”

He brushed a kiss to her lips, his gaze knowing. “It's okay.”

But he was still insistently hard, filling her. Despite his assurances, she was upset with herself at not being able to see to his pleasure.

“Let me use my mouth,” Penelope begged, and she knew he was tempted by her plea by the hitch in his breath. “Please, Colin.” But he only shook his head, his eyes warm and reassuring.

“Maybe another time,” he said. “Just let me stay like this. Inside you.”

So she did. She forced herself to soften her body, to adjust to the sensation of him deeply embedded inside her.

“Is this good?” She whispered, desperate for more of his approval.

“It’s perfect,” Colin kissed her cheek and his pleased tone of voice helped to calm her.

She lay still as Colin’s arms tightened around her, holding her close. She would never deprive him and the pleasure of knowing this made him happy melted away the tenderness between her legs. The too large feeling of fullness became a sweet, tender sort of ache, soothed by his warmth and weight behind her. Suddenly she felt glad for the soreness, glad to be stretched out by Colin.

Penelope closed her eyes and thought that this moment of intimacy was worth every bit of discomfort.

Even as she was falling asleep, he remained inside her, their bodies deeply connected.

Chapter Text

When Colin opened his eyes, he was in Penelope’s bed. He had joined her there after coming home late last night, falling asleep almost instantly from exhaustion, his arms around her waist.

Penelope shifted against him, murmuring in something in her sleep that made her furrow her eyebrows before relaxing again. Colin allowed himself a rare moment to stare at her while she slept. He swept his gaze over the rounded sweep of her cheek to her plump lips slightly parted, her chest rising and falling with each inhale and exhale of breath.

He wondered whether she was dreaming and hoped the Sandman had blessed her with a good dream.

His head fell back on the pillow. It was still early. He leaned forward and buried his nose in her hair and breathed in the clean, flowery scent of her hair. His alarm hadn’t gone off, so he indulged himself in lying in bed beside Penelope.

The hand that had been resting on her waist moved upwards to gently cup one round breast. Her nipple was hard under the material of her thin T-shirt and he gradually became aware of his morning erection pressed up against the warmth of her hip.

Not surprising.

It had been a long week. The last time he’d had Penelope was nearly five days ago. He’d come home from work to find Penelope waiting for him on the sofa in the silk robe he’d bought for her. Her skin had been dewy and glowing from the facial she’d gotten with his spa voucher and she’d poured him a drink from the bar and then sat on his lap while he sipped it slowly and she told him about her day.

When he’d grown distracted and untied the belt to her robe, he’d discovered she was wearing one of the new bra and thong sets he’d recently purchased from her. She’d let him fondle her tits and slip his fingers inside her while they caught each other up on their respective days. He’d made her come like that, sitting in his lap with two fingers inside her cunt.

Afterwards, she’d had him sit back on the sofa while she had her way with him.

That vision of Penelope on top of him had been vividly scorched into his memory: robe falling off her shoulders and knickers hastily pushed to one side as his cock buried itself deep inside her. He’d loved the sight of her wild red hair cascading around her shoulders, eyes screwed shut and her mouth open as she wailed and gasped his name as she came, making him go dizzy and lightheaded.

Need rose up in him, hot and fast.

He sat up and drew back the covers. Penelope sighed and rolled onto her back. His hand delved under Penelope’s t-shirt and he encountered warm, sleep-flushed skin. He pushed up the fabric, exposing her breasts to the chilly early morning air, watching the nipples tighten and harden further.

He leaned down and drew one breast into his warm mouth, suckling on her nipple. He pulled back and turned to the other neglected breast. He took turns with each breast until he felt her stirring into wakefulness.

“Mmm, good morning to you too,” Penelope sighed, carding her fingers through his hair.

Colin kissed one pouty nipple. “It is a good morning.”

“I was dreaming about you.”

“Were you?” Colin asked, intrigued and pleased. “What was I doing in your dream?”

“I don’t remember, but it was a nice dream. So you must have been doing something nice.”

“Something nice like this?” He drew her nipple back into his mouth and suckled deeply. She moaned and canted her hips.

Impatient, Colin pulled her pyjama bottoms down her legs along with her knickers. She spread her legs invitingly without being asked and he reached for her bedside drawer, where he’d stashed some condoms and lube.

Her hands moved down to play with herself as she watched him roll on a condom with hungry eyes. He looked down and his mouth watered when he found her pink folds already drenched and glistening.

Naughty girl.

He wondered if she’d gotten that wet from him sucking on her tits or if she’d woken up like that. He’d have to find out next time; he imagined waking her up by thrusting into her and felt himself grow harder, if that was even possible.

Colin would usually take his time with foreplay, but he was pent up this morning from not having her for five days. Almost a lifetime since they’d started having sex two weeks ago. Once the condom was in place, he brushed aside her hand and pushed inside her soft, snug cunt with a long loud moan of relief.

“Was this what you were dreaming of?” Colin asked, his voice rough.

Her stunning eyes shimmered up at him, her mouth open and her small hands grasped at his hips desperately. She was already hot and pulsing around him and, for one selfish moment, he wished he wasn’t wearing the condom so he could experience the sensation again of her clasped around him without any barrier.

Penelope braced her feet on the bed, tilting her hips and letting out soft little sounds as she did her best to adjust to his cock inside her. This was always the best part, the way she melted and looked up at him with a sweet pleading expression when he pushed his cock inside her too-tight cunt—it always made him feel a little out of control.

He wasn’t going to last, he realised. He was in rather a state this morning and Penelope’s naked curves were devastatingly beautiful lit by the morning sun.

He could already feel an explosive climax building at the base of his spine. Colin grit his teeth and told himself he would make it up to her after and braced his arms on the mattress and drew his hips back as he prepared to thrust—

His phone, sitting on the nightstand, began to ring.

Penelope’s eyes blinked open in confusion as she turned her head, searching for the source of the jarring sound. Colin grasped her by the chin and drew her face back to him.

“Ignore it,” he commanded, taking her mouth in a deep, heated kiss. Penelope moaned, the sound heating his blood.

The ringing stopped.

And immediately began again.

Colin paused, concern breaking through the dense fog of lust that had taken over his brain.

Two phone calls in a row signalled an emergency that he could not ignore.

“Fuck,” Colin growled in defeat as he pulled away and rolled onto his back.

Penelope’s small, plaintive whine at his withdrawal from her body only ratcheted up his resentment as he reached for the phone and swiped to answer.

“What?” he snapped.

“There’s been a break-in,” Rae’s troubled voice informed him. “I just got a call from Janet. The front door’s completely shattered and some booze is missing from the bar. I’m heading in now to check the damage and the fuzz are on the way. They’ll need to speak to you when they get there.”

“Shit,” Colin sat bolt upright. Penelope watched him with concern. “I’ll be there in fifteen.”

He hung up and turned to Penelope. “We‘ve been robbed,” he said, in a perplexed tone.

“What?”

Colin rubbed at his forehead as the information sunk in. “Rae called to say the cleaners arrived this morning and the restaurant’s been broken into. Why the hell didn’t the security system send me an alert?”

He propelled himself out of bed. He took two steps towards the door before he spun back around.

“Shit, Pen—”

“Go,” Penelope told him. He saw with regret that she’d already pulled her shirt back down over her gorgeous tits. She wasn’t angry, he noted with some relief. “Go take care of your restaurant.”

He leaned back down to press a quick, hard kiss on her lips. “To be continued,” he promised.

“Go,” Penelope said again, repressing a smile.

🎀 🎀 🎀

There hadn’t been much for the thieves to steal. Most of their top shelf liquor and wine was locked away in a backroom and they did not keep any cash in the premises, so all that had been taken was a few bottles of champagne and scotch.

Colin spent most of the next two days dealing with the police, trying to figure out how to board up the front entrance while they waited for a new door to be installed, and hauling his security contractors over the coals.

He and Penelope exchanged texts and he still made sure to send her dinner every evening, but she had a group assignment to complete for one unit and her classmates had agreed to meet early in the mornings that week to work on their paper. That meant she was already asleep by the time he made it home and gone from the flat by the time he woke up.

On the third day after the break-in, Colin was in his office brooding over the way he had left her the last time he’d been in bed with her. Any other woman would have been furious with him, but Penelope had only accepted it with grace.

He opened up a browser and googled nearby florists. He wanted to send her some flowers to show his appreciation and let her know he was thinking of her.

He was definitely thinking of her.

Flowers weren’t enough. He wanted to give her something bigger and better, something that would adequately convey how much he’d missed her. Something that would make her eyes go big and wide and bright with surprise and pleasure, making him feel good. Worthy. Longing sparked hot and heady inside him.

He glanced at his watch. It was just past five, the staff were getting the dining room set up for their first round of seating at six o’clock. He checked the reservations for that evening, it was busy, but manageable: no regulars or persons of note. Colin tapped his fingers against his desk, contemplating taking a short break to run home and surprise Penelope. He had just over two hours before the second dinner rush started, enough time to…satisfy his desire to see her.

Somehow, the sex with Penelope seemed to get better each time. He was obsessed with how eager she always was for him and how he never felt the need to hesitate to take exactly what he wanted from her.

If he went home now, they could have an early dinner together, cuddled up on the sofa. Or maybe she’d let him make up for the way he’d left her wanting the other morning. His gut tightened at the idea and he thought he’d better hurry up and make his escape if he wanted to have enough time with Penelope.

Rae caught sight of him as he hurried past her, but she didn’t try to stop him from leaving. By the time he arrived at the flat, thanks to traffic and stopping by a florist and his favourite fish and chip place along the way, it was just past six.

Excitement carried him through the lift. He clutched the expensive bouquet, smiling at the arrangement as he imagined Penelope’s reaction to seeing them. He wondered what she was doing. Working? Reading? Thinking about him?

The lift doors opened and he stepped cautiously into the flat. It was silent and empty. Was Penelope in her bedroom? Napping? Dreaming of him?

His heart rate kicked up, picturing her cosy under her blankets…maybe wearing the tiny camisole set…or one of his shirts, again. He could slip into bed with her and wake her up slowly…maybe not that slowly, he amended in his head, noting that time was of limited essence…No, he’d kiss her neck and rosy breasts until she opened her big blue eyes and begged him to fuck her.

Colin left the food in the kitchen and nudged the bedroom door open and felt his smile drop. The bed was neatly made and there was no sleepy Penelope in it. He glanced into the bathroom, but his final hopes were dashed there, too.

She wasn’t home. The disappointment he felt was almost overwhelming in its intensity.

[From Colin at 6:11PM]

Hey, where are you?

[From Penelope at 6:14PM]

Still at work 😔

Something came up

Why? Everything ok?

[From Colin at 6:14PM]

Nothing

Just checking

All good

Colin collapsed sadly onto Penelope’s bed. He allowed himself to bury his face in the pillows for only a second, breathing in her familiar scent.

He contemplated a nap, but after closing his eyes for about two minutes, he snapped them open again, too wired to sleep. He checked his messages and then his instagram on a whim. He rarely used social media apps these days—the last few posts had all been related to his restaurants.

He noticed Hyacinth had sent him a DM. There was a link to a reel and beneath it were several indignant texts from his youngest sister.

[From @hyacinthbridgerton at 6:09PM]

why is that cow dining at your restaurant?

after all that rubbish about her getting food poisoning last time?

i hope that bitch chokes

Curious, Colin clicked the link to the reel.

It belonged to Cressida Cowper. She had filmed a short reel of her having a drink at Ambrosia’s bar, walking into the dining room, and being poured a glass of wine by a server.

She was clearly on a date with some poor ponce. Taking an educated guess, Colin deduced it was a revenge move aimed at Fife for his recent social media posts with a slender, blonde TikTok influencer that Cressida herself had introduced to Fife while they were still seeing each other.

Driven by boredom and some strange morbid curiosity, he flipped to the next reel on her profile.

And the next.

And the next.

As he grew older, it struck him as peculiar and strange that people like Cressida would allow strangers so much access to her own life and thoughts, shallow and inane as they were. He’d posted his own fair amount of content on his instagram page when he was travelling and garnered a respectable amount of followers, but the thought of posting content for attention or to show off his lifestyle and wealth was slightly nauseating.

And yet, there was such a demand for this sort of content that even Cressida was trying to profit off it. Colin and his siblings had grown up with wealth; to them, buying a new watch or a new car wasn’t something particularly newsworthy. He was very aware of his own privilege and good fortune, especially after the education he’d received during his travels during his younger years.

His thoughts inevitably turned to Penelope. Colin wondered what it had been like for her, growing up on the fringes of his world.

He’d always been aware of the titters about Portia Featherington’s fake Gucci handbags and the family’s perpetual money problems. He marvelled at the hardworking and self-sufficient woman Penelope had grown into, even with Portia Featherington for her mother. She never seemed to care about the sort of things her mother did, despite being immersed in a world where wealth and status was everything but having none of it for herself.

Curious, Colin stood up from Penelope’s bed and stepped into her closet. Her belongings took up a small amount of the space. He didn’t recognise any of the clothing or shoes as being designer-branded and he wondered if perhaps Penelope just wasn’t all that interested in clothing.

Perhaps all those lectures from Eloise about how fashion was anti-feminist had actually worked on her. But then he recalled Penelope admiring Daphne’s new handbag at her birthday dinner and Daphne’s shining face when she had said it was Simon’s gift to her.

He walked out of Penelope’s closet to the kitchen. Resigned to eat a lonely dinner of fish and chips on his own, he pulled out his phone to call Daphne.

🎀 🎀 🎀

Two hours later, Colin returned to Ambrosia just as the second round of guests were being seated. To his relief, Cressida and her date were long gone.

When he checked in with Rae, his manager reported dryly that Cressida had been treated like royalty—dessert and a bottle of champagne had been on the house. His staff were not going to leave anything to chance and had given her no opportunity to make a single complaint about her dining experience.

The second seating went rather smoothly. Colin spent most of the evening behind the bar helping with the drink orders while checking his phone and wondering if he would get a text message from Penelope reacting to the flowers he’d left for her on her desk.

Around eleven o’clock, as the guests were being served coffees and people were beginning to slowly trickle out of the dining room, Colin wandered up to the private dining room. Tilly Arnold, one of Colin’s regular customers and Benedict’s old flame, had booked out the room for a private function.

“Tilly.”

“Colin, hello darling,” Tilly stood up to greet Colin as he entered the room, kissing the air on either side of his cheeks.

“How was your dinner? Everything to your satisfaction, I hope?”

“It always is. Come, come. Have a seat.”

Colin sat in the vacated chair next to Tilly. The table was only half full. A couple of tall blonde men were seated on the other end of the table, pouring wine and giggling drunkenly into their plates of loukoumades.

“Should I get the lads some coffee?” Colin asked Tilly, concerned by how pink these men’s faces were getting.

Tilly glanced over at the end of the table and waved a careless hand. “No, don't worry about them. Engineering team from Norway. They can’t turn down the free booze but they can’t hold their liquor.”

Tilly was a venture capitalist with an interest in clean tech; when she came to Ambrosia for dinner, she was usually accompanied by some business associates. She clicked her tongue in mild disapproval at the engineers. “They’re gonna be wretched tomorrow morning. How are you keeping? How’s that new restaurant coming along?”

Colin filled her in on the renovations for Contessa while she listened on with interest.

“Builders, darling. You can’t believe a single promise they make you. Do you want a mint?”

Colin glanced down quickly to see her rummaging around in her handbag. “No, thank you.”

Then he took another look.

Perhaps it was the fact that he had wasted an obscene amount of time watching Cressida’s inane and shallow posts on her ever growing handbag collection, or perhaps it was the years of listening to his mother and Daphne or his old girlfriends’ purse talk, but staring at the beautiful handbag, he realised he had apparently learned some facts about designer handbags against his will.

His mother owned several vintage Diana Chanels, iconic for being favoured by Princess Diana, and he’d overheard Daphne and Hyacinth begging their mother to let them borrow one of the coveted bags over the years.

“That’s a nice bag,” Colin commented, casually. “A vintage, isn’t it?”

“What?” Tilly’s brow furrowed in confusion, before she looked down at her lap where her ivory handbag was resting. “Oh. Yes. A vintage Chanel.”

“It’s nice. May I?”

Tilly handed over the bag with a raised eyebrow.

“I never knew you to have such a keen eye for fashion, Colin.”

“I have a diverse range of interests,” he replied, flippantly.

“You do? Or a new girlfriend, perhaps?”

Colin didn’t bother correcting her. He was busy admiring the handbag’s pristine condition. It must be at least thirty years old, but it looked almost brand new.

Penelope’s bare closet and her fraying handbag strap was at the forefront of his mind, as well as the nasty comments Cressida and her cronies had made about her. The handbag would suit Penelope. The ivory colour and the gold clasp and chain was timelessly elegant. He could see Penelope wearing it with one of the flowy, romantic sundresses she favoured in the summer or with one of the professional black dresses she wore to work.

“Was this inherited or purchased from a reseller?”

“It was a gift actually,” Tilly said. “A dreadful ex-boyfriend who left me with this rare, vintage handbag and a lifelong fear of Scorpio men.”

He highly doubted that Tilly was afraid of any man.

Colin thought about the way he’d left Penelope the other morning, abruptly and without warning. She hadn’t complained at all. It made him angry how easily she accepted her place in his life when she deserved so much better, so much more than he could give her right now.

He had promised to take care of Penelope, to protect her. But all he had done was buy her some dinners, moisturisers, and some lingerie and pyjamas that, if he had been really honest with himself, had been for his own pleasure. He hadn’t given Penelope the armour to guard herself from the Cressidas of this world.

“Are you very attached to it, then?” Colin asked. “Could you be persuaded to part with it?”

Tilly looked astonished. Colin couldn’t blame her. It was a rather odd request that had come out of nowhere, but if there was one thing he’d learned doing business: you seized opportunities when you saw them.

“Well, it depends on the offer,” Tilly said, once she took in the expression in his eyes and realised he was serious.

“I’ll be right back.”

Colin jogged downstairs to one of the backrooms which housed their rare wine collection. He found the bottle he was searching for at the bottom of the wine fridge in the darkest corner of the room. A place that he was sure Fife would never go snooping and come across the private wine collection that Colin stored on the premises.

When he returned to the private room, he presented the bottle carefully to Tilly. Her eyes widened.

“A DRC?”

“One of my last bottles of the 2014 Montrachet.” Colin had been saving the bottle for a special occasion and it hurt him a little to part with it, but it was a small price to pay to please Penelope.

Tilly took the bottle to examine it herself before throwing him a sharp look. “You do know my weakness, Colin.”

That was true. He was well aware of Tilly’s penchant for exquisitely expensive French wine.

“A fair trade,” Colin smiled. “A rare vintage for a rare vintage.”

Tilly nodded her agreement, but when Colin reached out for her bag she slapped his hand away.

“Hold your horses!” she laughed. “I’m going to have it professionally cleaned and sent to you tomorrow in its original dust bag and box.”

“Oh,” Colin said, sheepishly. “Thank you, Tilly.”

“You’re very welcome. I hope she loves it,” she said, impishly.

Colin grinned. “I hope so, too.”

🎀 🎀 🎀

It was close to midnight by the time Colin got home.

He had spent most of the night pleased with himself for securing a gift for Penelope and he was eager to see her when he returned home. Just the knowledge of having a surprise planned for her was exciting.

To his disappointment, he found the flat just as empty as he had left it.

Penelope still hadn’t returned home.

Concerned, he called her phone but got sent straight to voice message.

It was quite out of character for her to be out this late. Perhaps she had gone out for drinks with her coworkers. He had Remington’s contact details; as promised, he’d sent Colin an email as promised with more details about the article he was writing for Colin’s consideration.

Colin thought about giving Remington a call to see if he was out with Penelope. But he hesitated when he recalled Penelope telling him that she didn’t discuss her private life with her coworkers. Somehow, he knew that she would not be pleased if she found out he had been calling her coworkers asking after her whereabouts.

After all, Colin wasn’t her boyfriend. He was only her flatmate, as she’d said herself.

They’d agreed to let themselves indulge in their wants and needs with one another without worrying about the complications of the future. Colin took his promises seriously, forcing himself to stay firmly in the present. Whatever Penelope wanted, he would give it to her, in exchange for her time and warmth and loveliness. If she didn’t want anyone to know their business, he’d make sure to honour that wish.

But…as he sat there on the sofa, in the dark, watching television and staring at his phone, hoping for a call or a text from Penelope, he began to regret that promise.

Another hour passed.

He was starting to feel desperate enough to consider calling Remington again. Or even one of Penelope’s sisters.

Insecurities rose to the surface within him. Had she grown tired of waiting around for him to come home? Was this how she felt, everyday, while he was at his restaurant, too busy to spend time with her? Did she feel neglected?

At half past one in the morning, after Colin had called Penelope three times and sent a number of increasingly concerned text messages without receiving a single response, he heard the lift doors open.

He heard Penelope’s voice before he saw her.

“You didn’t have to see me up, Greg.”

“I just wanted to make sure you—oh. Colin. You’re home already.”

Colin stood up as soon as he heard the lift.

His eyes swept over Penelope. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair windswept as she walked into the living area, Gregory two steps behind her.

As Penelope absorbed Colin’s expression, he watched the tipsy smile on her face slowly fade as she registered how furious he was.

“You’re drunk,” Colin said flatly.

Chapter Text

Colin’s gaze swept over Penelope.

Although it was immediately apparent to him that she’d had a few drinks, drunk was perhaps an overstatement. Nevertheless, he turned accusatory eyes onto his younger brother who watched him with a wary expression.

“I didn’t think you’d be home yet,” Gregory said.

“It’s nearly two in the morning,” Colin replied flatly, unimpressed by his explanation.

He couldn’t seem to bring himself to look back at Penelope’s face. Instead, his eyes were drawn to the arm wrapped around her shoulders.

Gregory’s arm.

The sight made Colin’s jaw tighten and he could feel a vein start to throb at his temple.

He wished he were the type of stoic man that could keep what he felt from showing on his face, but he wasn't. He was an open book, displaying everything he felt—his tiredness, his anger, and his confusion.

“I was just seeing Penelope up safely,” Gregory said, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his voice. “I stopped by her office and we went out for drinks and dinner together.”

The tightness in Colin’s jaw grew more pronounced. “On your bike?”

“Yup.”

Anger and jealousy mingled in his chest. “I told you not to.”

“Yeah? So what? You’re not her father,” Gregory’s brows drew together and he scoffed, “Or mine, for that matter.”

“No, but I’m the one looking after her,” Colin snapped.

“Thanks for taking me home, Greg,” Penelope spoke up, stepping between the brothers in a way that made Colin feel a flicker of guilt for raising his voice. “It’s late. You’d better head home and get some sleep.”

Gregory shrugged, seeming to realise he wasn’t going to be invited past the entry space surrounding the lift.

“Fine. I’ll head out. Night, Pen. Thanks for…you know. All the advice.”

“Of course,” The encouraging smile she gave his brother made Colin feel…not good. “Anytime.”

Gregory’s gaze flickered to Colin. “Goodnight then,” Gregory said shortly, without any of the warmth he’d bade Penelope goodbye.

Despite his anger, Colin called out as the lift doors slid shut, “Greg. Ride safely.”

He received a sarcastic salute in response and then his little brother was gone, leaving Penelope standing next to him in the silent flat.

Colin took a breath, letting the air rush through his lungs as he attempted to get a hold of the feelings roiling in his gut. He didn’t want the headache threatening to build at his temple to burst through, or to lose grip on his fragile control. He had lost his temper at work too many times to count and the bitter aftertaste it left on his tongue was the very last thing he wanted to taint Penelope with.

She’d done nothing wrong, he reminded himself.

She could ride on the back of Gregory’s bike if she wanted to, no matter how miserable it made Colin feel. Whatever he felt wasn’t her fault at all. She hadn’t made any promises to him.

They’d only agreed to take care of each other while they were in this flat together. Bitterness welled suddenly in his chest. He pushed it down, preferring anger.

The smell of her perfume and shampoo filled his nostrils as she cuddled up to him, a tentative hand coming to rest on his bicep. He resisted the urge to circle her waist with both arms and squeeze. He held himself rigidly instead. Resentment clouded his mind and filled him with doubts. He tried to tell himself that she was here, not just because she had nowhere else to go, but because she chose to be with him. He wasn’t sure if that was the truth or whether he was just fooling himself.

“Colin?”

“You didn’t answer any of my calls,” he said, rubbing at his chest to dispel the tightness there. “Or my messages. I was worried.”

“My phone died,” she said, quickly. The simple explanation did nothing to soothe him. “Greg stopped by the office and asked me to go to dinner with him. He hung around my desk while I was finishing up work. Agatha allowed it, you know how she adores all of you Bridgertons. And, of course, he charmed half the girls in the office and they insisted on giving him a tour, and then we went out for drinks. It was—”

Colin jerked away from her while she was mid sentence. He couldn’t help it. It stung, knowing she’d kept his existence a secret from her coworkers, but had introduced them to Gregory and had even given him a tour of the office.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were waiting for me. I wouldn’t have—”

“It’s fine,” he cut her off again, staring blindly out the windows at the city lights. He couldn’t shake the image of her riding behind Gregory, arms wrapped tightly around his waist, her tousled hair streaming through the night air.

“I really am sorry,” she said, again.

He nodded stiffly.

He felt the tentative pressure of her small hand on his back. “Colin. I really didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I know you didn’t, Pen. I just need some sleep, I reckon.” He turned and forced a smile to his face. “I’ll be right as rain in the morning.”

“Well…” She searched his face. She wasn’t convinced. “Can’t we…would you like to sleep in my bed tonight?”

“I don’t think I should Pen. Not while I’m in this foul mood.”

Penelope gave him a look that was pure disappointment. It made his stomach sink and he almost apologised, but Penelope only uttered a quiet, “Okay.”

She left, disappearing into her bedroom.

Things would be fine, he told himself, ignoring the way his stomach clenched with disappointment equal to hers. The living room felt cold and empty.

He tried to psych himself up. When the Chanel bag arrived, he would present it to Penelope. He tried to picture the moment like he had all day, but it no longer felt the same. He couldn’t summon up the same excitement and giddiness when the knot of jealous anger still lingered.

Colin sat down on the sofa and rubbed his hand blearily over his eyes. He needed a moment to collect himself before he went to bed. He probably wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight.

That miserable thought added to his fuming discontent.

When he heard soft footsteps padding towards him, he looked up and felt his jaw drop.

Penelope had changed into a skimpy babydoll nightie made of purple lace and designed to make his brain short-circuit. Her hair was tied into a loose ponytail that hung over one shoulder, draping over her breast. The other nipple arched against the lace barely covering it.

There was a determined bent to her expression as she approached him.

“Thank you for my flowers,” she said sweetly, jolting him out of his lust-dazed stupor.

Right. He’d all but forgotten about them.

“You’re welcome,” Colin replied automatically, his voice coming out hoarse.

He stared at the hem of the tiny negligee that barely reached mid-thigh and the inviting stretch of pale skin it revealed. Something wild in his bloodstream made him confess, “I…came home early tonight. I wanted to surprise you.”

Her eyes grew soft. She lowered herself to the carpet as he watched, brain faltering at the sight of Penelope in that tiny scrap of lace, on her knees in front of him.

Her small hands stroked the wool of the trousers covering his thighs. “I wish I’d been home. Is there anything I could do? To make you feel better?”

It was both odd and exhilarating to have her kneeling before him like this, like a repenting supplicant. The tension in his shoulders travelled south, weighing heavily in his gut. He felt his cock stir.

“Pen,” he said, swallowing roughly. “We shouldn’t.”

“Are you still mad at me?”

“No. I’m not.”

“Then why won’t you come to bed with me?” Her eyes stared into his own, big blue pools that tugged at the deepest, most primitive parts of him. He couldn’t look away.

Her lips formed a plea that almost made him reach for her. “Please, Colin. Let me make you feel better. Tell me what I can do.”

“Pen…”

“Please? Colin?” Her voice had gone tissue-soft. “I hate coming home to this distance between us. Let me make it better.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t,” she said gently. “But I want to. Don’t you know that yet? I’d do anything to make you feel good.”

“I…” He swallowed. Penelope tilted her head, watching him through her eyelashes. Patiently. Pleadingly. Waiting to please him.

“What do you want Colin? Tell me, please.”

The list was miles long, he thought, reaching out to caress a lock of silky red hair. Her lips parted in response to his touch, and before he could stop himself, he said: “Take my cock out.”

He could barely breathe as he watched her fingers drop to his belt, unbuckling the leather. Her deft fingers unzipped his trousers and reached in to touch him. His cock throbbed eagerly at the first brush of her hand against the sensitive head.

Colin couldn’t say what came over him next, or what drove him to do what he did, but he reached out to run his fingers through her fiery hair. Then he grabbed a handful of it, firmly tilting her head back so she was forced to look up at him. The expression on her face sent a hot jolt of arousal down his spine.

“I want you to suck on my cock until I tell you to stop.”

Penelope’s eyes went glassy with lust. The tension in his body turned from anger into something else; something hot and hard and overwhelmingly uncontrollable.

And Penelope? Sweet, luscious, willing Penelope? She did as she was told.

Fuck.

She was so good. He didn’t deserve her. He couldn’t resist her. He watched, enthralled, as she leaned down and pressed a kiss to the underside of his cock before flattening her tongue to lick along the length of it. A full body shudder coursed through him.

Colin had received blow jobs before. They’d been perfectly fine and good when they came along, when his previous partners had offered to return the favour.

But this was different. He’d never asked a woman to go down on him before, let alone demanded it.

And it was Penelope, on her knees between his legs, licking circles across the head of his cock, her eyes melting with hot, eager desire. She wanted this, Colin realised. Perhaps she needed it just as much as he did.

Penelope sucked gently on the tip, seeming to suck the air out of his lungs at the same time. Colin’s hands fisted in her hair. It felt good. Better than he remembered any blow job ever being.

“Fuck, that feels good,” he hissed.

Penelope’s mouth was as hot and sweet as her pussy and, when he opened his mouth to tell her so, she practically purred around his cock.

Praise fell upon her like rain on a thirsty plant. He watched her blossom with fascination and need, giving into the urge to demand more so she could give it.

“Suck,” he instructed her, “Suck on my cock.”

Her throat worked as she did her best, taking about half of his length inside her mouth before hollowing her cheeks.

“All the way,” he said hoarsely, wondering if she could.

She curled herself around his legs, pressing her heavy breasts to his knees as she took him deep into her mouth. Her eyes watered when he felt himself touch the back of her throat.

“Good girl,” he praised.

A flush spread from her cheeks down to her jaw, and then her neck. It grew, covering her everywhere, as he continued to praise her for what her mouth was doing to him, for how well she was sucking him off.

Colin reached out and flicked the tiny straps of her nightie off her shoulders.

“Pull it down. I want to see your pretty nipples, Pen.”

His cock slid nearly out of her mouth as she pulled back to do as she was told, dragging down the top of her baby doll to show her her heavy, lush breasts. They were deliciously large and rounded and soft; the most perfect pair of breasts he’d ever seen.

“Play with them,” he instructed, pulling her closer, swallowing hard as he thrust back into her hot mouth.

She obeyed, her tiny hands tweaking at her rosy nipples, teasing them into stiffer points.

“Harder.”

She pinched them and gasped involuntarily, choking slightly around his cock. Concern had him lifting his hand from her hair to cup her cheek and ask, “Are you okay?”

Penelope pulled back to pant, “Yes—are you going to come in my mouth, Colin?”

Her eyes told him that she wanted it. Heat gathered in his belly and the tightening in his balls was an indication he was getting close. Penelope traced her tongue around his cock, drawing shivers out of him. The way she gave herself over so completely to him was intoxicating.

He didn’t hesitate. “Not this time,” he panted. “I’m want to fuck you. Bare. I’m going to come inside you.”

Her needy moan in response was the sexiest thing he has ever heard, she bent her head down to take him deep once more.

“Are you wet?” he asked, his voice strained.

Nodding made her head bob and her throat convulse against his cockhead. Colin cursed, his toes curling, and pulled himself free of her gorgeous mouth. He was too close.

“Up,” he said hoarsely, already seizing her hands and hoisting her to her feet. “Sit on the sofa and spread your legs.”

She did as she was told, his hands spread her thighs wide apart to bare her glistening pussy to his gaze. It was just as soft and bare as he’d known it would be. Colin helped her shave it regularly. He ran a thumb up her slit before circling her swollen clit. Penelope moaned, her head hitting the back of the sofa.

“Always wet for me.”

“Just for you,” she said, softly. Her eyes were a different story; they shone bright, fiercely wanting him.

Colin notched his cock at her entrance, tracing his tip in the wetness there. He paused, letting her brace herself, watching her squirm and close her eyes as she waited for him to thrust inside.

“Eyes on me,” he said, slipping his hand behind her neck. He squeezed and her eyes flew open again.

He pinned her gaze with his own as he pushed inside, going deep and slow. Her pupils dilated with each inch, mouth falling open, and his name spilled from her lips, throaty and drawn out.

Colin bottomed out, pausing briefly to savour the incredible feeling of being inside Penelope with nothing to separate them, skin on skin. How could it feel so good? Had it felt this good the first time? Why had he deprived them both of this intimacy?

He forced himself to keep his eyes open, to stay connected with Penelope.

Palm around her neck, he drove into her, again and again, building the pleasure for both of them. Penelope mewled beneath him, her breasts bouncing with the force of his thrusts. When her eyes drifted from his, he caught her by the chin and reclaimed her gaze, driving his hips deeper.

“Keep your eyes on me while I’m fucking you,” Colin panted.

She tried, she truly tried, and Colin adored her for it. The next time he thrust deep, he watched her lips part and her lashes flutter but their eyes remained fixed on one another, both of them breathing in tandem.

“I’m never fucking you with a condom ever again,” Colin promised her. Penelope’s mouth dropped open and her gaze turned liquid as his thrusts sped up.

“Yes,” she cried out.

“You want that? To be fucked bare? You like it, don’t you? I feel your greedy little cunt getting so tight.”

“Colin—!”

He drove into her faster, harder, bracing his forearms on the sofa cushions and using the force of his body to surge into her soft, yielding body, again and again.

“You’re squeezing me, baby. Are you getting close? Are you going to come?”

“Don’t stop,” Penelope begged, her features taut and drawn as if she was in pain. Her eyes wide and lost, almost frightened, as she clung to him. “Colin, don’t—”

“I’m not going to stop,” Colin kissed her hard, nipping her bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue. “This sweet little pussy is mine. Isn’t it, Pen? Mine to fuck, mine to take care of.”

Their eyes were locked on one another. Colin saw what his words were doing to her, her eyes filled with the need that she always tried to hide from him.

Colin had never fucked another woman like this—completely unchecked, selfishly demanding exactly what he wanted. Her cries increased in volume, her pupils blown so wide they were almost black. He could feel her pulsing around him, tightening.

“Tell me who this soft, gorgeous cunt belongs to, Pen,” Colin demanded. He wanted to hear it. He needed her to say it.

“Yours,” Penelope gasped, her gaze filled with raw emotion. “It's yours, Colin.”

“Come on my cock,” Colin hissed through his clenched teeth. “I want to feel your hot pussy come around my cock.”

Penelope wailed and then, like the good girl that she was, came.

He fucked her through her orgasm, his eyes trained on her as she lost the battle to keep her own open. She screwed them shut as her grasp on his hips tightened, pussy clenching endlessly around his cock as she came.

His back stiffened and he gave in, letting her milk him dry. Blinding pleasure rippled down his spine as he emptied himself deep inside her, filling her so completely he felt drained with each surge.

“Fuck, Penelope,” his mouth sought hers, and he kissed her sloppily, pressing his hips firmly to hers to keep his cock clamped inside her incredibly tight, throbbing pussy. “Pen, Pen…so fucking good…I came inside you so hard…”

Colin swallowed the little moans that spilled from her lips, grinding his hips in circles and feeling her tremble beneath him.

They stayed connected while their blood cooled, exchanging soft kisses. Colin tucked strands of her hair behind her ear, brushed a thumb over the round apple of her cheek and her swollen lips while Penelope watched him with a sleepy, content expression.

He didn’t know what to say. There were words stuck in his chest, fighting to come out of his mouth that he forced down.

Insane words like: I never want to leave you. I want to stay inside you forever.

Mad, inappropriate promises like: Stay with me, Penelope. I will always take care of you.

He was thoroughly shaken.

Sex with Penelope was different. He’d realised that from the very first time she’d let him touch her.

Casual was all he knew, before. Sex was fun. It was an enjoyable, physical release. He was used to the curiosity and excitement fading from his relationships after the first few encounters. There was always an untenable sort of distance separating him from his partners that left him feeling lonely, even when he was in bed with another person, as close as two humans could possibly be.

And no matter how hard he tried to hide it, to make up for the lack of connection by being as generous as he could in bed, his past girlfriends would eventually figure it out and leave him.

It had never been like this.

He didn’t feel hollow with Penelope. He touched her and was touched and still wanted more. She could reach inside him and fill up that lonely crevice with just her blue eyes and sweet smile. When he looked into her eyes, he knew that she was right there with him. He wasn’t alone. Her body was soft and warm and fit around him like a vice, bringing him both exquisite pleasure and unparalleled comfort. No matter what he wanted, she gave without hesitation.

Everything that he struggled with came startlingly easy with Penelope.

He’d never wanted another person like he wanted Penelope.

Being with her was joy.

It was peace.

“Are you going to sleep in my bed tonight?” Penelope murmured, her fingers tracing shapes on his chest.

“If you will have me,” Colin said, in a contrite tone. “After I behaved like a complete twat.”

“You’re exhausted and overworked,” Penelope said, being all too generous.

“Where did Greg take you for dinner tonight? Somewhere with some proper food, I hope.”

“We had pub food. Greg needed some romantic advice from someone who was ‘sister-adjacent,’ as he put it.”

“Ah,” Colin replied, feeling like an idiot. Tension he hadn’t been aware he held in his body leaked away. Penelope didn’t seem to notice, she yawned and blinked rapidly.

He stroked her back. “Shall we go to bed?”

“Yes,” she yawned again.

Penelope excused herself to go to the bathroom. Even though he was loath to leave her, he retreated to his own ensuite to have a quick shower and brush his teeth.

When he returned to her bedroom, Penelope was a small ball curled up under the covers. She murmured something sleepily as he slid under the covers and pulled her into his arms.

She drifted off to sleep almost immediately while he stared into the darkness. His body was buggered, but his mind was still buzzing.

He didn’t sleep for a long, long time.

Chapter Text

Penelope slowly became aware of the pleasant warmth between her legs, then the hot, wet slide of a tongue over her intimate folds.

She made a sound that signalled to Colin she was awake and his lips sealed around her clit as he sucked her gently, making her gasp and buck her hips.

“Colin,” she sighed, grasping desperately at the sheets beneath her and then at his strong hands holding her thighs open. He took her hands when she reached out for him, threading his fingers through hers as he licked hungrily at her melting cunt.

He made her come twice before he sheathed himself in her. She kept her eyes open because she knew he liked watching her face struggling to adjust to him being inside her. She lay beneath him, stroking his back and kissing his ear as he fucked her, depleted from her two orgasms and content to let him take what he needed from her.

Like she had been for the last three deliriously happy weeks of being the centre of Colin’s attention.

It felt like a dream.

One she didn’t want to wake up from.

Afterwards, he kissed her cheek and reminded her that they had a lunch date that afternoon before he slipped away to shower and get ready for work. Penelope got up to use the loo and washed her hands, then crawled back into bed to catch a few more hours of sleep.

When she woke up again from a deep, dreamless sleep, she stretched lazily. Classes had finished last week and for once she had no assignments to work on, no lecturers to catch up on. She spent the morning lying in bed, messaging Eloise and browsing on her phone.

She carefully avoided the topic of Eloise’s impending return and the flat-hunt they would be embarking upon. A tiny kernel of hope lay nurtured inside her chest, growing bigger and bigger with each passing day, with each kiss and caress from Colin…with the way he looked at her like he would never get enough of her.

Perhaps it was foolish, but Penelope had always been foolish when it came to Colin.

A voice inside her head warned her to punch down those feelings, to not nurse expectations. Actually, Penelope realised that the voice sounded remarkably like her mother.

But…

He’d been jealous of Gregory.

He always wanted to spoil her. He bought her gifts constantly, presenting them with such puppylike eagerness. She thought back to how excited he had been to give her the vintage Diana Chanel. She’d almost been moved to tears. She’d never been gifted anything so beautiful and precious in her life.

And when they had sex…he always took her like he was ravenous for her.

And today, he’d asked her to meet him for lunch, something so ordinary and mundane—and yet it was extraordinary, because they’d never done that before, not just the two of them.

It felt like a date. She was almost giddy with anticipation.

When it was close to eleven, she finally dragged herself out of bed to shower and get dressed. It was an overcast, windy day outside and Colin had instructed her to dress up, so Penelope pulled out a black merino wool dress that she’d purchased at Harrods during Boxing Day sales three years ago and the Chanel lambskin ballet flats Colin had surprised her with when he presented her with her handbag. She did her make-up carefully, painting black wingtips on the corners of her eyes.

Penelope went into her wardrobe to reluctantly take her new purse out of its original box. She usually kept it in its dust bag and box and she’d never even worn it out before. That nagging voice in the back of her head told her to be careful with it because she might need to return the bag to Colin once all of this was over.

She shook away the thought and looked at herself in the mirror. The elegant ivory handbag was striking against her dark clothing and she hoped it would please Colin to see her finally using his gift.

Penelope pulled on her serviceable puffer jacket with a wry smile before she left the flat. She hoped wherever Colin was taking her was indoors.

She made her way to Covent Garden where Colin had told her to meet him. He was waiting for her at the entrance of the tube station. She took a moment to admire him, so tall and handsome, dressed impeccably in a maroon suede bomber jacket and dark trousers.

When he looked up from his phone and saw her, he beamed and hurried over to take her hand.

“Hullo, gorgeous,” Colin said, stooping to plant a firm kiss on the lips.

Penelope stared up at him in surprise, her heart fluttering. His eyes crinkled, warm and happy to see her.

He pulled her along. “C’mon.”

They had lunch at a new omakase Japanese restaurant. The chef came out to say hello to Colin,shaking his hand and thanking him for coming. They were shown to their table and food was brought to them without any order being taken.

Penelope feasted on sashimi so fresh it melted in her mouth, delicate slices of wagyu steak, a clear seafood soup, katsu oysters and juicy dumplings. Colin had her sit next to him in the booth seat so that he could feed her and hold her hand during the meal. Penelope could tell how pleased he was with her, stroking her knee under the table, his eyes fixed on her mouth.

As they got up to leave, her hand was still safely tucked in Colin’s larger one. She didn’t want to leave him yet. She was a soft, gooey, melted mess of a girl, drunk on adoration for Colin.

“Can I see you back to the restaurant?” Penelope asked, staring up at him imploringly as they stood on the street.

Colin smiled down at her, his hands stroking her hips under her jacket. “I’m not going back to the restaurant.”

“Where then?”

He grinned, “You’ll see.”

He hailed a cab and opened the door, ushering her inside.

He took her to Mayfair. The cab stopped on the corner of Bruton Street and New Bond Street and Penelope found herself at an intersection of high-end designer stores.

“Do you need to get something?” Penelope asked blankly as she followed Colin into Hermès.

“Hello, Colin,” a pretty girl with jet black hair greeted them as soon as they entered the store. She was dressed in a smart black blazer with a silk scarf wrapped stylishly around her neck.

“Hello, Mary Ann,” Colin smiled at the sales associate. “Nice to see you again. This is Penelope. Pen, meet Mary Ann. ”

“Hello, Penelope. I love your bag.”

“Thank you,” Penelope said politely. She glanced around the store curiously, wondering what Colin was here to purchase. A new belt? A pair of loafers?

“Would you like to have a browse in the store first? Or we could get started upstairs?” Mary Ann asked Colin.

“Upstairs, I think.”

Intrigued, Penelope followed Colin and Mary Ann up the curved staircase. She had never stepped foot in an Hermès store before. Portia had tried her best to keep up appearances despite their family’s financial woes, but the designer bags Portia carried had been fakes.

Mary Ann showed them into a private room that had a table and chairs and a large mirrored wall then excused herself.

Enchanted, Penelope peered into one of the glass display cabinets to examine the items inside. Another sales associate entered the room to set two glasses of champagne and a tray of petit fours on the table before disappearing again.

Growing up with the Bridgertons meant that Penelope was used to being a witness to the privilege and preferential treatment the family enjoyed due to their status and wealth. But she could not help being impressed by the deference with which Colin’s presence commanded in this luxury store which actively cultivated an air of snobbish exclusivity as part of its brand.

Mary Ann returned to the room, carrying three large orange boxes stacked on top of one another.

“I am so excited to show you what we have to offer you today,” Mary Ann said brightly as she unstacked the boxes on the table and pulled a glove on her right hand. Curious, Penelope drew closer as each box was opened and the precious contents revealed.

“First, we have a Birkin thirty-five togo in noir with gold hardware.” Penelope’s eyebrows shot up, surprised at the appearance of the universally coveted bag, and in the classic black colour as well.

“We also have a Constance eighteen epsom in fauve with palladium hardware.” Mary Ann pulled out an adorable little handbag with a large silver H as a clasp.

“Lastly, we have a Kelly twenty-five epsom in blue jean with gold hardware. A very popular colour this year.” The final handbag was a medium size bag and Penelope felt her heart skip a beat and her next breath was caught in her throat as she immediately fell in love. She stared at the blue handbag with longing, admiring the striking and elegant colour.

“Very nice,” Colin smiled approvingly at Mary Ann. He glanced over at Penelope.

“What do you think, Pen?”

Penelope took in the handbags arrayed on the table. Their combined worth was more than a year of her salary. Double, probably, on the resale market. She sighed internally and tried to reign in her fanciful yearning for something well beyond her reach.

It was a practice she was all too familiar with after all.

“Are you getting a bag for one of your sisters?” she asked him.

“No, we are here to get a bag for you.”

She must have misheard him.

“Sorry?”

“Which one do you like?” Colin asked earnestly, seemingly unaware that he had just dropped a metaphorical bomb on her.

Penelope stared at him uncomprehendingly. “I…but you already got me a bag.”

“But you barely use the Chanel. I wanted to get you something you can carry around everyday. I like the Birkin. You could chuck your laptop in it and bring it with you to work.”

“Colin,” Penelope began, but glanced at the sales assistant watching them with a bland expression. “Mary Ann, could you give us a moment?”

“Of course, I’ll be right outside,” Mary Ann said graciously.

Penelope waited until the door shut behind Mary Ann before she turned back to Colin.

“Colin. You can’t buy me a Birkin.”

“Why not?” He stared at her, maddeningly calm which only made Penelope’s nerves worse.

“Why not? Because…because I don’t need a Birkin. It’s too much! I’d look ridiculous carrying that bag with me to work. Besides, how did you even get them to show you a Birkin? Don’t you have to be on a two year wait list?”

As soon as she asked, she realised it was a silly question. The Bridgertons were practically one step down from royalty.

“I called Daphne and she set up an appointment with Mary Ann,” Colin replied, he shifted forward in his seat, forehead creased. “Why would you look ridiculous?”

“I’m not…” Penelope floundered before she finally settled on: “I’m not the type of girl who carries a Birkin.”

“I don’t understand what that means. Do you not like it?”

“Of course I do. But it’s not whether or not I like it. It’s just…not appropriate. I can’t wear my Oxfam blazer and a Birkin to work.”

Colin sighed and stood, walking to the wall with the full length mirror.

“Come here,” he said.

She followed reluctantly. He took her by the shoulders gently so they both faced the mirror.

She stared at their reflection. More accurately, she stared at Colin, tall and devastatingly handsome with his chiselled jawline, dark blue eyes, and thick chestnut hair. She had always been attracted to him, even when they were teenagers and he was a beanpole with gangly arms and spots on his forehead. Now he was the type of man that if you saw him walking down the street, you would take a second, and then a third, look to make sure that your eyes were not deceiving you, that yes, that man really was that hot.

Colin’s eyes twinkled as he grasped her chin gently to straighten it. “Look at yourself, Penelope. What do you see?”

Penelope frowned and considered her own reflection. It was her. Ordinary Penelope. She glanced back up at Colin inquiringly.

“Look again. More carefully.”

She tilted her head and took another look. She tried to imagine what Colin saw and conceded that her skin was brighter and dewier from the expensive skin products she had been using—the regular spa visits sponsored by Colin didn’t hurt either. There were no longer any dark bags under her eyes due to how well she had slept in Colin’s flat these past two months. Her hair was shinier and thicker. She had a soft, content glow about her that she attributed to the incredible sex she’d been having.

She looked…like a woman well cared for.

She looked like a woman well-loved.

“Would you like to know what I see? I see the cleverest, bravest woman I have ever known,” Colin said to her, his eyes soft and earnest. “I see someone who has spent the past few years of her life working her fingers to the bone for a family that did not know how to treasure her. And now you are living with me and you take such good care of me, Pen. I’m not going to make the same mistakes your family did. Let me treasure you, Penelope.”

“Oh, Colin,” Penelope swiped at her eyes before turning quickly to throw her arms around his waist and tuck her face against his chest.

It was becoming harder and harder to tell herself that every gift from Colin was just his way of being kind. That he was simply being a good friend to her.

That small kernel of hope planted inside her was sprouting and blossoming with every touch, word, and gesture.

She had thought in the beginning that there would be no harm to this arrangement. That there was no point in protecting her heart from Colin, since she was already in love with him. But she hadn’t known that her love for him could continue to expand, until it was so vast, it almost felt like it could blot out the sun.

Mary Ann returned to the room and she went through the detailing of each purse in depth, drawing Penelope’s attention to the quality of the leather and the stitching. Mary Ann wasn’t at all rude or snobbish as some of the sales associates had a reputation for being. She asked Penelope about her work and, when Penelope said that she worked at The Ton, Mary Ann told her how much she loved the gossip pages.

It was almost a foregone conclusion that Penelope would be going home with the elegant and versatile Birkin. She would be a fool to choose anything else. All the same, Penelope found herself admiring the smaller bags, particularly the blue Kelly. It was cute and chic; she could envision how effortless it would be to wear it with jeans and a jumper.

As if she could sense Penelope’s pull to the Kelly, Mary Ann said, “Some women prefer the smaller Kelly over a bigger bag. You’re so petite, it would suit you. You could use it as an evening bag and then put the strap on to use as a day bag the next morning.”

“I think I would get more use out of a larger bag,” Penelope said practically.

She looked over at Colin anxiously, hoping he didn’t mind spending more on the larger handbag, but he only nodded at Mary Ann and said, “She’ll take both.”

If Penelope hadn’t already been sitting, she may have lost all strength in her knees and toppled to the ground.

When she opened her mouth to object, Colin silenced her with a look. “Think of it as an investment, Penelope.”

She felt disoriented and overwhelmed as Colin guided her back downstairs with his hand on her lower back while Mary Ann packed up their purchases.

As Colin took her hand, he frowned. “Pen, your hand is freezing. Are you cold?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Here, put your jacket back on while we wait.” As Colin helped her into her jacket, there was a low rumble of thunder before the sound of heavy rain came pouring down. “Oh blast, it’s started to rain. Give me a second.”

Penelope looked out the windows as Colin disappeared. The sky outside had turned dark and she could see people hurrying past under their umbrellas.

“I have been waiting for over half an hour now for some service, it's completely ridiculous.”

A familiar voice broke through Penelope’s reverie and she turned her attention to the counter where Cressida Cowper stood, her face pinched with displeasure.

As if sensing eyes on her, Cressida turned her head and spotted Penelope standing in the entrance way, staring at her.

For a moment, the two women stared at each other, startled at encountering each other outside of work. Cressida sneered and opened her mouth, ready to deliver some blistering set down but, before she could, Colin reappeared with Mary Ann in tow. He wrapped a soft, ivory cashmere scarf around her neck.

“It’s getting colder, Pen,” he scolded her gently. “You shouldn’t leave the flat without a scarf.”

Mary Ann smiled at her wistfully from over Colin’s shoulder before she stepped forward and handed her a small card.

“I hope you enjoy your new purchases, Penelope. This is my card. Please feel free to give me a call if you have any questions about the care of your new handbags or if you need anything else.”

The iconic orange boxes holding her new purchases had been placed into plain white shopping bags as a safety measure. As Colin took the bags from Mary Ann, she informed him, “We’ve organised a car to take you wherever you need to go.”

Colin took this in stride and thanked Mary Ann for her thoughtfulness. “Of course,” Mary Ann beamed at Colin. “Please say hello to Daphne for me.”

Penelope couldn’t seem to find the words she wished to say to Colin. So, once they were in the car, she simply tucked herself against him, her cheek on his arm.

“Thank you,” Penelope said softly.

Colin kissed the top of her head and played with the fingers of one hand. “You’re welcome.”

“Cressida was at the store.”

“I know. I saw her.”

“I…What if she goes around telling people?”

“Telling people what? That you and I were out shopping? That’s hardly newsworthy.”

She wondered how to put it into words, how exposed she had felt, how self-conscious. People at work didn’t know anything about her private life. Her connection to the Bridgertons. Her family situation. She didn’t want rumours to start flying around that she and Colin were dating, especially when it wasn’t true.

“I just…I hope she didn’t get the wrong impression.”

Colin grinned, “The wrong impression? What, she’ll think I’m your sugar daddy?”

The breath was knocked out of Penelope’s lungs. Colin clearly thought it was funny. Ridiculous, even.

He was joking about it, even as she stared at him, a stunning realisation coursing through her.

Colin Bridgerton was her sugar daddy.

Colin raised his eyebrows at her astounded expression. “What?”

She cleared her throat, and forced a smile. “N—nothing.”

Colin continued to watch her while she fidgeted nervously under his gaze.

Then he leaned in close to her ear so the driver wouldn’t hear him. “You’re supposed to say, ‘thank you, Daddy.’”

Penelope’s eyes widened, goosebumps erupting all over her skin.

Colin seemed to enjoy her reaction—the hitch in her breathing, the mortified blush on her cheeks.

“Colin,” Penelope said, reprovingly. Her eyes darted to the driver. Colin only raised an eyebrow.

“Well?”

“Stop,” Penelope whispered.

“I will if you say it.”

“Thank you,” Penelope said, throwing an anxious look at the back of their driver’s head.

He cocked his head, turning his ear towards her. “Thank you…?”

Her face was tomato red as she forced the words out in a voice barely louder than a whisper. “Thank you, Daddy.”

Colin liked that. She could tell from the way his teasing smile faded and his eyes darkened.

He slowly unwrapped the scarf he’d placed around her neck.

Penelope bit back a moan as he pressed a lingering kiss against the skin of her neck.

“Say it again.”

“Say what?” Penelope asked innocently.

The initial embarrassment had passed, she was intrigued by Colin’s reaction. It hadn’t occurred to her that this was something that Colin would be into, but it didn’t surprise her that he was. Colin could be dominating and demanding in bed.

Colin narrowed his eyes. “Don’t be naughty, Penelope.”

Penelope felt a thrill run up her spine at his hard expression and stern tone. “I’m not naughty. I’m always a good girl, Daddy.”

He rewarded her by kissing her, deep and fervid. He pressed her back against the leather seats and licked into her mouth. She gasped, then melted, cupping his face with her hands. It excited her how into this Colin was.

When he pulled back, his breathing was harsh and uneven, his expression surprised and aroused in equal measure. He dragged his lips across her cheek, grazing her earlobe to whisper, “Do you think they knew?”

“Knew?” Penelope wondered, pulling back to stare at his mouth.

“Knew that I was in a hurry to get home so you could thank me properly for your gifts. That’s why they called us a car.”

“But I just thanked you,” Penelope replied, playing dumb on purpose.

He took her hand in his and placed it in his lap, so she could feel how hard he was, “I think you could show me a little more gratitude, baby.”

Penelope giggled in surprise. She kissed him and rubbed her palm against his cock in an effort to soothe him, but it made him growl against her mouth. If she had been in her right mind, she would have been aghast by their behaviour, getting hot and heavy in the back of a car. But she wasn’t in her right mind. She could hear herself letting out little whimpers as he took her mouth again and again, until her lips felt bruised and sensitive.

When the car stopped in front of Colin’s building, they separated themselves to climb out and thank the driver, who seemed relieved to see them off, before they dashed inside.

As soon as the lift doors closed behind them, Colin backed her up against the wall, bending down to kiss her and grope her tits. She whined as he pinched a nipple and rubbed his hard-on against her belly.

When the doors opened again, Colin dragged her out of the lift and into his bedroom.

“Strip,” he demanded, as he quickly shucked off his jacket and pulled his shirt over his head. Penelope hurried to obey—toeing off her flats, shedding her scarf and jacket, before she pulled her dress over her head and discarded it carelessly on the floor.

Colin undid his belt, flicking it open with one wrist. He watched her take her clothes off, mouth slightly agape. He kicked off his pants to reveal his big hard cock, too large to stand completely upright and leaking at the tip.

Her mouth watered at the sight. Fuck, he was so hot. How was he real, this gorgeous man who bought her Birkins and fucked like a god?

She quickly took off her bra and sank to her knees, soothing her palms up his thick thighs, and sucked the crown of him into her mouth.

“Shit,” Colin hissed. He wove his fingers into the strands of her hair, his other hand clenched into a tight fist. She tried to fit as much of him into her mouth as she could, licking him from base to tip, before using both hands to jerk him as she suckled him.

“So good,” Colin gasped, “Fuck. Fuck, that’s so good, baby.”

Penelope grew wetter and wetter listening to his raspy words of praise. She had never enjoyed this act, but it was different with Colin. She loved to go down on him, learning exactly what he enjoyed, what made him whimper and pant her name. Every curse word, every growl and jerk of his hips she teased from him fueled her own excitement.

She took him as deep as she could without gagging until she felt Colin’s grip on her hair tighten. Her eyes watered and jaw was sore but she didn’t care, she could have sucked his cock forever. She wanted him to come inside her mouth, but he pulled at her hair gently, so she reluctantly released him. The lewd pop her lips made as his cock left her mouth made them both moan.

She looked up at him, wondering why he’d asked her to stop.

“Wanna come inside you, baby,” Colin panted.

He pulled her to her feet and urged her onto the bed. She crawled onto the mattress on her hands and knees and Colin rolled her knickers down her thighs.

“Look at this messy, wet cunt,” Colin said breathlessly. “You naughty girl, it’s all over your thighs. Did you get this wet from sucking my cock or because you liked calling me ‘daddy’?”

Penelope cast a sly look over her shoulder, “Actually, I’ve been like this since you bought me the bags.”

Colin slapped her pussy with the flat of his palm. Shocked, Penelope jolted and cried out at the sting. “Colin!”

“Bad girls get punished, Penelope,” Colin said. He was trying to stay stern, but his lips were twitching. “Tell me the truth.”

Penelope pouted before confessing, “I liked calling you ‘daddy.’ I liked how much you liked it.”

“Good girl,” Colin grasped her hips. She moaned as she felt the first thick inch of him breach her, her head falling forward to rest on the mattress as he slowly fed his cock into her.

“Fuck! Fuck, you’re tight. Always so tight, no matter how many times I fuck you.”

“Colin,” Penelope whined as he bottomed out inside her. He felt huge inside her from this angle, her spine arched and her thighs shifted restlessly. “Colin, please—”

“What’s wrong, baby?” Colin crooned, his big hands were everywhere, soothing down her spine, grabbing handfuls of her arse. “Is Daddy’s cock too big for your tight, little cunt?”

Penelope moaned, her thighs quivering. “Oh, God,” Penelope whimpered. She was so turned on she was on fire, all she could focus on was the throbbing between her legs. “Oh, fuck. Please, please, please fuck me.”

“You want Daddy to fuck you?”

“Yes,” Penelope whined. There was no trace of embarrassment now, only a clawing desperate need to be fucked. “Yes, Daddy, please. Please fuck me.”

He groaned, she felt his cock twitch inside her. His hands tightened on her hips and that was the only warning she got before he drove into her, hard.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Penelope cried with each punishing snap of his hips. Her cunt throbbed; she was so wet she could feel it running down her thighs as he fucked her with deep, rhythmic lunges.

She came without warning, the orgasm so intense that it was violent. Her pussy clenched down hard on the cock inside her and she shuddered all over as her fingers clawed desperately at the bedsheets.

She felt the hot spurt of his come flood her cunt as his grip on her hips tightened and he pressed so deep inside her, she could swear he was touching her womb. From the sounds Colin was making, his climax was almost as intense of her own.

He collapsed onto the mattress, pulling her tired body into his arms. When she looked up at him he was sweating, panting, and staring wide-eyed up at the ceiling.

Their eyes met and Penelope’s mouth twitched at Colin’s awestruck expression. He noticed and he started to laugh. Penelope joined in immediately; it felt so good to laugh together after the intensity of the sex. Almost like a second release.

“That was incredible,” Colin said, his tone coloured with disbelief, as he pulled her in for a kiss. “I’ve never come that hard in my life.”

“I can’t feel my legs,” Penelope said sleepily as she laid her head on his shoulder, running her fingers through the thick forest of hair on his chest.

“Was I—” he paused briefly, searching for the right words, “Too rough?”

For a moment, she was puzzled. He hadn’t been any rougher than usual and she’d responded with enthusiasm, hadn’t she?

Colin’s hand stole between her legs and stroked lightly over her cleft. A blush stole over her cheeks as she realised what he meant. When he’d…slapped her. There. The remembered sting—and sheer pleasurable shock—of it still lingered in her mind, forever brandished there.

“No,” she said, honestly, resisting the urge to rub her thighs together. “I—I liked it, actually.”

The look he gave her was so intense she thought for a second he would push her legs apart and have his way with her again. But he just asked huskily, “Yeah?”

Penelope nodded, her heart fluttering in her chest. “All of it. I like everything with you, Colin.”

Chapter Text

Penelope stepped out of the staff meeting room, her head still spinning with the news she’d just received.

She’d been promoted.

Promoted.

To Junior Staff Writer.

It was a long-held tradition for the position to be dangled over the heads of all the assistant editors when they first joined the company. There was only one opening each year—sometimes none at all—and competition was fierce.

Cressida’s face had been plastered with a fake smile as Agatha bestowed the surprising news during the staff meeting. No doubt she’d believed she was going to emerge victorious. She’d turned to Penelope and embraced her in a fake congratulatory hug, pulling away swiftly before Penelope could even react.

Penelope hadn’t expected it at all. Her performance had been acceptable—the best she could strive for given the circumstances—but it was just that. Passable. She truly hadn’t believed she would make it this year. She was capable of better. Agatha had even said so on a few occasions, never letting on that she was disappointed, but Penelope had known it in her heart that Agatha expected more from her.

The promotion also came with a raise. Not a significant one, but for someone in her income bracket, it was certainly meaningful.

A body brushed by hers in the corridor, none too gently. Cloying perfume wafted into her nostrils, the very same cloud she’d been engulfed in a few moments ago—Cressida.

“Congratulations, again, Penelope,” she said snarkily, without a single ounce of sincerity in her tone.

Penelope’s guard went up, instinctively bracing herself for an attack.

“Thank you,” she said politely, even as Cressida stepped in front of her and turned around, effectively blocking her path. The others had all returned to their desks after the meeting ended, with Penelope remaining behind to speak to Agatha and HR regarding the details of her new position.

Cressida must have been waiting to catch her alone to give her a piece of her mind, Penelope guessed. She wasn’t surprised.

“How nice for you,” Cressida went on. “You must be so pleased to finally get somewhere at last, after all your efforts.”

The way that last word was spoken gave Penelope a very unpleasant feeling. Cressida was practically seething beneath her veneer of civility and false platitudes.

Whatever sharp words were coming didn’t matter, Penelope reminded herself. Cressida’s snobbery wasn’t her business. Over the last few years, Penelope had grown inured to it—more preoccupied with plugging the leaks in her family’s ship. The blows were so commonplace that they’d lost meaning. She might have wilted in the past, succumbing to Cressida’s mean girl potshots, but she was beyond caring now.

She’d earned the promotion. Penelope may not have done her best, but Cressida’s work wasn’t as good as hers. Cressida wanted to take it out on her? Go ahead.

“I have worked very hard,” Penelope said calmly. “Thanks for noticing.”

“Yes,” the claws came out, almost gleeful. “You certainly have. I was ever so happy for you when I saw you’d finally gotten yourself a proper handbag.”

There it was.

She’d known it was coming—Cressida had simply been biding her time, waiting for the right opportunity to bring up their encounter at Hermès.

“It was unbearable, you know, to see you running around with those…” her nose wrinkled in distaste and she waved her hand dismissively. “Thank goodness you managed to finesse a Birkin out of Colin Bridgerton.”

The implication was obvious. Penelope shrugged it off, and mustered a faint smile. “Colin is very generous.”

Colin.

She wanted to get back to her desk and pull out her phone to text him and share the news. She wondered what reaction he would have. Of course, he would be happy for her—thrilled, even—and they might celebrate together. He might come home early and shower her with kisses and sex and perhaps even more gifts.

If Cressida knew even half of what Colin had given to her…Penelope held back a snicker. She imagined saying out loud, Yes, he’s my sugar daddy. Jealous?

The concept was still mind blowing, but she’d come to terms with it. Colin bought her things and she liked that he did. He enjoyed spoiling her.

Maybe he’d be at home waiting for her if she texted him her good news—ready to reward her for being such a good girl. The memory of the scorching hot, kinky sex they’d had after their Hermès appointment flooded her with a flush of heat and hormones.

What they did wasn’t transactional. It was something else entirely, and whatever Cressida thought about their relationship didn’t matter.

“I do wonder if he spoke to Agatha on your behalf,” Cressida said, cutting into Penelope’s thoughts. “How sweet of him. If I were you, Penelope, I’d try to keep him as happy as possible for as long as I could. You know how men are. So very fickle.” Her eyes trailed over Penelope’s face and body, running a haughty, stomach-turning tally of the assets she knew Cressida didn’t rate. “He’s got a reputation for getting bored of women rather quickly, you know.”

Penelope credited herself with the ability to keep her expression schooled, despite feeling like she’d been slapped in the face.

Of course it wasn’t true.

Agatha and Violet Bridgerton were close friends, yes. They’d been close before Colin was even born. Agatha was fond of him like she was of all Violet’s offspring.

But there was no possibility that Colin would approach Agatha to ask for a promotion for Penelope. The idea was ludicrous. It wouldn’t even occur to him.

Cressida didn’t know him at all.

He didn’t have to work, but worked himself to the bone. Because he valued it.

He would never countenance the kind of nepotism Cressida was accusing him of.

She felt her placid expression fracture.

“I know it's hard for you to imagine someone coming by a position honestly,” Penelope said coldly, her anger rising to the fore. “Considering you got into the company thanks to your mother pulling strings—”

“You’re not better than me, Featherington.” Cressida interrupted furiously, dropping all pretence of friendly banter. Her eyes were as icy as her tone. “Your family is trash. The whole world knows you’re practically destitute. You may have earned this promotion on your back, but it’s not going to last. When Colin Bridgerton gets bored of you, he’ll drop you without a second thought.”

With those parting words, Cressida stomped off, her heels clacking loudly against the floor.

Stomach tight with adrenaline and anger, Penelope returned to her desk, hands shaking as she pulled out her phone to share the news with the most important person in her life. She wouldn’t let Cressida ruin this moment for her. She wouldn’t.

“Pe-ne-lo-pe!” the slight squeak of Remington’s wheels announced his arrival at her desk before she even looked up.

“I know you’re a junior writer now,” he said, winking at her, “But you promised to edit my article and I’m holding you to that promise.”

He slapped down a printed copy of his latest endeavour onto her desk with a flourish.

A little smile tugged at the corners of Penelope’s mouth, despite the roiling she felt inside. Cressida’s face and words still lingered in her mind.

“Of course,” she said, picking up the first page. “I always keep my promises.”

She felt a jolt as her eyes landed on the photo beneath the byline. Colin’s handsome face stared back up at her.

Remington laughed incorrigibly at the stunned expression on her face. “Knew you’d like that! He looks gorgeous in that shot, doesn’t he?”

He was always gorgeous, her Colin. Dark blue eyes glimmering with warmth that couldn’t be suppressed, even when he was trying to appear composed and businesslike. The world didn’t know him like she did—how hard he tried to present himself as strong, how much he disliked having to deal with unscrupulous business partners and wayward employees. He was a master at hiding what he thought were weaknesses. They weren’t weaknesses in Penelope’s eyes. They were what made him Colin.

“Thanks for convincing him to accept the interview. I didn’t think I’d get a whole phone call with your man. He is delightful, by the way. Sexy voice.”

Penelope shot Remington a look, but she obviously didn’t voice disagreement because he was right. Colin’s voice was super sexy.

Fuck, you’re tight.

She fought down a blush and a shiver.

“He’s not my man,” Penelope said, trying to sound dismissive. “I keep telling you, we’re just flatmates.”

Remington stared at her, then cast a pointed look at her Birkin resting on the bottom shelf next to her desk.

Penelope tried her best to ignore the sardonic expression on his face, but Remington wasn’t finished with the topic. “When I interviewed him and he told me he wasn’t seeing anybody, that was weeks ago. I could ring him and ask him if that is still correct.”

“It is still correct. He isn’t seeing anybody.”

“But you are living with him. And you’re sleeping with him.”

“Remy, that’s none of your business.”

“I bloody knew it. You lucky girl.”

“Remington.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll stop haranguing you, but I’m telling you as soon as this article gets published, the poor man is going to have women throwing themselves at him. He won’t be able to walk down the street without a pair of knickers being tossed at him. You need to strike while the iron is hot. Lock that man down.”

“I’ll get this back to you soon,” she told Remington, ignoring the strange flutter of jealousy in her stomach.

There was nothing to be jealous of, she reprimanded herself sternly.

Remington relented, finally accepting that Penelope was not going to engage with him on the status of her lovelife. “Thanks, babes. Congrats again. Drinks later, on me?”

“Maybe,” she said, not committing to any plans. “I might be busy.”

“Ah,” her friend grinned and gave her another knowing look. “Of course. Raincheck, then.”

[From Penelope at 10:36AM]

I have some news

I got a promotion!

I’m a junior staff writer starting from next Monday!

[From Colin at 10:38AM]

Pen that’s amazing!!!!!

Congratulations

That’s my girl. I’m so proud of you

[From Penelope at 10:38AM]

🥰

Agatha just announced it at the end of the staff meeting

It was such a shock

You should have seen Cressida’s face. You would have gotten a kick out of it

[From Colin at 10:39AM]

Rude of you not to have taken a photo

You’ll have to re-enact it for me

I wish I had the night off to take you out for a proper celebration

[From Penelope at 10:40AM]

I don’t mind. I know you’re so busy

[From Colin at 10:41AM]

We really should really do something to mark the occasion though. You’ve worked so hard for this

How about a new handbag?

[From Penelope at 10:41AM]

Don’t you dare

[From Colin at 10:41AM]

😇

But no seriously How should we celebrate?

What if I took a few hours off tomorrow afternoon and we can go somewhere?

[From Penelope at 10:42AM]

Tomorrow I have Pru’s hen do 😭

We’re doing a spa day at Aire

[From Colin at 10:43AM]

What time will you be done?

[From Penelope at 10:44AM]

Probably around 4

[From Colin at 10:44AM]

Perfect

Text me the address, I’ll pick you up

And we’ll have a proper celebration 🥂

Colin’s praise left her feeling rosy and warm. Penelope set to reading Remington’s article, red pen in hand. It was old fashioned to edit by hand, but Remington liked doing things old-school and had a strange fear of handing over digital copies of his work before it was set to publish.

She didn’t expect the disquieting feeling she got as she read.

Colin Bridgerton hails from the esteemed Bridgerton clan. Former members of the peerage, they are a family with a past as decorated as the royals themselves…

Cressida’s voice echoed suddenly in her head. Your family is trash.

She was acutely aware of the gaping difference between them. Her family didn’t compare to Colin’s, falling short in every way imaginable.

… But make no mistake, dear reader: Mr. Bridgerton is a rising star in the fine dining industry on his own merit, with one highly successful restaurant, Ambrosia, under his belt, and a long-awaited second undertaking set to make its debut soon…

Colin had a trust fund but he had only dipped into it to fund his growing businesses. She knew Anthony Bridgerton had multiplied his own inheritance. Colin would do the same.

And Penelope? She lived off his largesse.

Her promotion suddenly felt tiny, nothing compared to what Colin had achieved.

He was one of London’s most eligible bachelors. Insecurity gripped her. Remington hadn’t done it on purpose, but his article had hammered home the truth: in terms of their careers and status, Colin was far, far out of Penelope’s league.

Thank goodness you managed to finesse a Birkin out of Colin Bridgerton. Cressida’s voice taunted her once more.

No.

It didn’t matter what other people thought, she reminded herself. Their relationship was nothing like the sordid affair Cressida had insinuated. They were…she swallowed the dryness that appeared in her throat whenever she thought about putting a name to the thing between them.

She loved Colin. She always had, even before he swept back into her life to save her from her misfortunes.

And she was almost certain that he returned her feelings to some degree.

Something had changed in the way he looked at her, treated her. The night she’d come home with Gregory and Colin had turned possessive and jealous. For a day or two afterwards, Colin had acted strangely, withdrawing from her and keeping to himself, as if he were trying to make sense of his own behaviour. It had seemed perplexing at first and then frightening. She’d been fully prepared for the end right then and there—for him to come to her and say, I’m sorry, but I can’t anymore.

But that hadn’t happened.

He had become even more attentive. He cared for her. He was happy, genuinely happy, when they were together. There was no way she was misreading his tenderness and desire for her.

This wasn’t just a fling.

They were each other’s respite and Colin needed it just as much as she did.

She had hope, more than she’d ever had, and that was a dangerous thing.

Even more dangerous was her growing conviction that she didn’t need to be scared.

Wealth? Status?

Colin didn’t care about those things.

But was she being foolish trying to convince herself that the vast differences between her and Colin would never matter?

Don’t be a fool, Penelope. She could almost hear mother’s voice in her head. Do not waste your time on chasing foolish dreams. As if a man like that would ever be interested in someone like you.

She swallowed down the acrid taste of fear in her mouth. Hadn’t she decided to be content with whatever Colin was willing to give her? She’d promised herself not to hope for anything else.

Yet the possibility loomed over her now, hemming her in with untenable dread.

After all, she’d never considered Colin might be the one asking for more, and the very idea was terrifying.

🎀 🎀 🎀

Penelope and her sisters were in accord on one thing throughout their spa day: there would be no talk whatsoever of their father and his continued absence.

Instead they filled the afternoon with chatter about Prudence’s wedding, Philippa’s fertility cycle, and miraculously, one brief interlude about Penelope’s promotion.

The attendant at Aire had greeted Penelope warmly, with a familiarity that did not pass Prudence’s notice. She didn’t remark on it, but Penelope felt self-conscious anyway. She’d opted not to carry one of her new bags for the same reason.

If Prudence suspected the complimentary drinks and refreshments were out of the ordinary, she said nothing. She didn’t know Penelope had a weekly appointment at Aire thanks to Colin. He’d originally gifted her with a voucher that had turned into regular excursions and now she was something of a VIP client at the place.

In retrospect, Penelope should have seen it coming.

When they went to settle the bill, Dolores at the front counter graciously informed her that Mr Bridgerton had already paid. Penelope’s heart sank. He must have called and instructed them to charge his card when Penelope had told him yesterday she would be taking her sisters here.

Instead of feeling grateful, she felt a flicker of unease.

And panic.

Prudence and Philippa, standing right behind her, had naturally heard everything.

“He’s paid for it?” Philippa repeated. “All of it?”

“I…I mentioned to him yesterday we were coming here for Pru’s hen. That’s so generous of him,” Penelope said, trying her best to play it down.

Her sisters exchanged a look that made her immediately feel on edge. Penelope continued, “He’s been very kind about…everything. He must have wanted to do something nice for all of us. We should all send him a message to thank him.”

“I highly doubt he did it for either of us,” Philippa said.

“Well, of course. I don’t even have his phone number,” Prudence chimed in. “You can just thank him for us, Penelope. You’d prefer it that way, wouldn’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you like to keep the Bridgertons to yourself. You would always rather be with them than with us,” Philippa pointed out.

Penelope opened her mouth to argue, but no sounds emerged. She looked at her sisters, feeling cornered and resentful and…at a loss for what to say.

An uncomfortable truth settled between her ribs, hot and thorny. She hadn’t hidden her feelings well enough.

“Well, it’s paid off,” Prudence said, admiring her manicure. “You’ve been making eyes at him for years. I suppose we should be grateful he took pity on you like he did.”

Prudence’s arrow hit the mark. The ground seemed to crumble a little under her feet.

They were right; growing up, she had felt special when the Bridgertons took her on holidays. Violet would certainly have extended the invitation to her sisters if Penelope had asked, but she hadn’t dared to impose and, deep down, hadn’t wanted to.

She wanted the Bridgertons for herself.

They were hers. She had idolised them growing up, envying Eloise for having handsome older brothers and a kind mum and lots of money. Eloise’s sisters were pretty and popular, yet they didn’t treat Penelope like she was beneath them.

She didn’t want to share them with Prudence or Philippa. She’d wanted those golden summers for herself, kept separate from the increasingly tense environment at home—her parents’ constant fighting and the deep debt that even a primary school child could see encroaching closer and closer. The respite of the Bridgertons was all hers, kept firmly clutched in her sweaty little palms; held resolutely far, far away from the embarrassment that was her family.

She couldn’t lie to herself. A sour taste lingered in her mouth, as shame and resentment mingled in a mixture of self-awareness. She was terrified of what it meant if Colin got too close. If he stepped past the lines she’d carefully drawn between the life she inhabited with him and the reality of her family’s sordid scandals, he might realise the truth: they weren’t equals and they would never be.

What would he think of her, if he knew everything?

Squeamish feelings circled in her stomach as her sisters departed the spa.

Prudence and Philippa were off to another appointment—one Penelope hadn’t been invited to, but she hadn’t wanted to go, anyway. In light of Philippa’s comment, she wondered if her sisters had known she wouldn’t want to join them and simply hadn’t bothered to ask.

Penelope sat in the lounge of the spa alone. Her phone pinged with a text from Colin informing her that he would be arriving to pick her up in ten minutes.

As she stared blankly at her phone screen an incoming call popped up.

It was DI Hardy.

The air in her lungs seemed to dissipate. Penelope closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Penelope?”

“Yes, speaking.”

“Ah, listen. I’ve got an update on your dad’s case. Are you somewhere alone? Can you speak right now?”

“Yes. I am. What have you found?”

“You know that drug bust I mentioned to you, a few months ago? One of the men we charged is willing to cut a deal with us and give us more information about Dicky Greer and his criminal operations. And part of that deal is going to be he tells us what he knows about your dad.”

“I…okay?”

“I know it’s a lot to process, but the long and the short of it is this fellow knows what happened to your dad and also where he might be.”

Where his body might be.

Those were the unspoken words the DI wasn’t saying outright.

Penelope squared her shoulders and forced herself to ask: “When do you think we’ll know for sure?”

“The prosecutor’s going to deal with his solicitor and iron out the details. I’ll call you again as soon as I have anything else.”

“Okay. Thank you, DI Hardy. Thank you for all your work on this case. My family and I really appreciate it.”

She sat silently in the private lounge area, her eyes blankly focused on the fountain display that was meant to be soothing. It didn’t soothe her. She felt herself slipping into a heavy daze, her chest weighed down by the news. Panic fluttered at the edges of her tightly held body and she rocked herself once, twice, fighting down the bad feelings threatening to make her lose her composure in public.

“Pen?”

Colin’s voice broke her out of her thoughts. Her head lifted and there he was, walking towards her. The overwhelming relief she felt upon seeing him was almost too much for her.

She schooled her features into a smile, but it must not have passed muster, because Colin’s arms went around her as soon as she stood. She leaned into his embrace, resisting the urge to weep.

“You’re here,” she said into his shirt. Breathe, she told herself. Don’t break down.

He glanced at her face and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said, forcing a smile. “I’m just a little knackered.”

“After a long day at the spa?” he teased. “You ought to be relaxed.” He ran his hands down her back, resting them on her bottom. He surreptitiously squeezed her arse, testing her muscles for any lingering tightness.

“Spending hours with my sisters isn’t my idea of a relaxing time,” she murmured, trying to keep her tone light. “The massage was lovely, though.”

Not so much the phone call afterwards. Or the awkwardness of her sisters finding out that Colin had paid for the outing, but that seemed like a distant, unimportant detail compared to the tight feeling in Penelope’s chest at the thought of her father.

Hold yourself together, just a little longer.

She wanted nothing more than to burrow her face into his chest and let loose a scream that would ease the tension in her body.

“Good.” Colin nuzzled her neck, eliciting a shiver down her spine.

It was also oddly calming, producing a sedative effect on her senses. For a long moment, he just held her, as if sensing she needed it. Penelope pressed her forehead onto his shoulder.

Colin kissed the top of her head. “Congratulations on your promotion. I haven’t said it yet, have I? You deserve it.”

A ripple of pleasure suffused her at his praise, despite her looming panic attack. Regardless of what Cressida and Prudence had said, she was proud of her achievement.

“I have something I want to ask you,” he said, pulling back to look at her face. His eyes were soft, but they held a tinge of something that was both anticipatory and hesitant.

“What is it?” she asked. Apprehension snuck into her voice. Please let it be something nice, she thought, anxiety flaring. There wasn’t much more she could take today.

“Contessa is opening soon,” he said. “There’s going to be a soft launch, two weeks before the official opening. Friends and family, mostly.”

“That’s wonderful,” Penelope managed to say.

“I want you to come,” he continued. “As my date.”

For a moment, she didn’t know what to say. Fear and anticipation warred in her chest.

Then, her heart racing, Penelope nodded. “Of course I will. I’d love to.”

Again, that sense of devastating hope cleaved upon her heart.

His date.

He wanted her to be his date.

In front of his friends, colleagues, and family.

Colin beamed at her and bent his head to give her the kind of kiss she knew would lead to more. Desire kindled in her stomach and she kissed him back, eager to be as close to him as she could get. His excitement thrummed in his kisses, echoing her own, so why was it that a feeling of dread began to pool in the pit of her stomach?

Why was she back to the Penelope she’d promised herself to stop being? The scared, beaten down girl who kept waiting for the other shoe to drop?

Chapter Text

Colin was putting on his cufflinks when he received a call from the building’s concierge informing him that a guest was on her way upstairs.

Curious, he walked into the living room. The lift doors opened and Genevieve Delacroix breezed into his flat with a garment bag slung over one arm and shopping bags hanging off the other.

Colin glanced at the watch on his wrist as she walked right past him.

“I know, I know,” she called out. “We’re cutting it close. The dress needed last minute adjustments.”

“We’re supposed to leave in 10 minutes,” Colin said, concerned.

“We’ll be ready in five.”

Genevieve disappeared into Penelope’s bedroom and shut the door tightly behind her.

Five minutes later, true to Genevieve’s word, the door opened and Penelope emerged. If Colin had been a cartoon character, his jaw would have disconnected from his head and dropped to the floor while red hearts appeared in his eyes.

Penelope smiled at him shyly while Genevieve threw him a smug look. “See, Penelope. Didn't I tell you this dress was going to knock him dead?”

The dress was a satin silver gown that was expertly fitted to Penelope’s incredible curves. The square bodice was tasteful but the cut was made to clearly show off Penelope’s breasts, neck, and shoulders. She was stunning. Colin could not wait to show her off tonight.

He walked over to her and took her hand, then lifted it and spun her. Penelope laughed.

“You’re gorgeous,” Colin said, not trying to hide just how affected he was at all. The colour of the dress made her hair glow. Her skin looked flawless. He pressed his lips to the side of her jaw and breathed in her delectable scent.

Penelope pulled back, her eyes coasting down his body, checking him out. What she saw seemed to please her.

“You look gorgeous, too,” she said, admiring the charcoal suit he’d donned. It was tailored and sharp and he felt a flicker of lazy pleasure trail through him at her appreciative gaze.

Colin turned to Genevieve. “Well done, Gen.”

Genevieve smirked at him and he just knew she would be reporting everything back to his mother and his sisters the first chance she got. Genevieve had been Violet’s personal shopper for years. She’d been the first person he’d thought of asking for help when Penelope had anxiously informed him two weeks ago that she was worried she didn’t have anything nice enough to wear to the soft opening.

Genevieve left, leaving Colin and his beautiful date alone to admire one another. Teasingly, Penelope ran her hands down his back and rested them on his arse.

Excitement thrummed through his veins. The night seemed full of infinite promise and Colin was certain all the plans he’d carefully made would come to fruition tonight.

Contessa was opening at last.

Penelope would be on his arm, watching all of it. He wanted to show it off to her as much as he wanted to show her off to the world. His.

For the first time in nearly two years, things felt like they were falling into place for him. The long, arduous journey to Contessa’s opening was finally complete and Penelope had come into his life in a way he hadn’t imagined was possible.

He looked at her and wondered how it had taken him so many years to realise just how deeply he cared for her.

“I couldn’t have gotten through these past few months without you, Pen,” Colin said, pressing his forehead against hers. “I’m so grateful for you. I want you to know that.”

“I should be the one thanking you,” Penelope said, earnestly. “But let’s not start that now, we’ll be here all night.”

Colin laughed, “You’re right. No more talk of thanks. We’ve both been taking care of each other.”

And if he played his cards right tonight, he’d be the one to take care of her for the rest of their days.

“Shall we?”

“Oh, wait. I left my bag in my room.” Penelope dashed back into her room and emerged with a tiny silver clutch.

“Ready?” he asked, pressing a kiss to her soft lips, careful not to smudge her makeup.

She nodded, looking both excited and nervous. Colin smiled encouragingly, his heart swelling with fondness and affection, and he simply couldn’t wait for the evening ahead to start.

“Let’s go,” he said, intertwining his fingers with hers.

🎀 🎀 🎀

Contessa was housed in a Grade II-listed historic town hall with soaring high ceilings, arched windows, and grand columns. There was a second dining room downstairs in the vaulted basement which had been converted to a wine cellar.

The walls were lined with oak casks and bottles of Italian wines. The room was lit with soft lights along the wall and the tables that flickered like real candlelight. The atmosphere upstairs was relaxed and stylish, downstairs was cosy and intimate. The tables were decorated with fresh floral arrangements and set with Italian hand-painted dinnerware.

Along with his family, Colin had invited old friends and other restaurateurs. Wilding and Stanton had invited their family and friends. Fife had invited friends and social media influencers, much to Colin’s chagrin. He would have preferred the soft opening to be friends and family only, to give them more time to iron out any imperfections before the grand opening, but Fife had just waved away his concerns. Again.

Dick.

“Congratulations, Colin,” his mother said, beaming at him with such pride he almost didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Thank you,” Colin leaned down to kiss Violet’s cheek. “I can’t believe it’s finally here. I was starting to think it would never happen.”

“Enjoy your moment. You’ve worked so hard for this,” Violent patted his cheek fondly, before she cast an eye over at Penelope, who was chatting with Francesca and John.

“Penelope looks beautiful tonight,” Violet said affectionately. She cast a knowing look in his direction. “I can tell she’s very proud of you as well.”

“Do you really think so?” Colin asked hopefully.

Penelope had seemed a bit subdued when they arrived at Contessa. He’d expected her to be impressed and she had been, but somehow her reaction felt oddly daunted. He felt a twinge of nervousness, but pushed it down.

“I do,” Violet assured him. “Now that the restaurant’s opening, you’ll have more time to spend with her, I hope?”

Colin nodded, “If she’s not sick of me already.”

“The way that girl looks at you, dearest…I wouldn’t worry about that.”

His mum winked at him and then drifted away to speak to another guest. Colin sought out Penelope and was making his way towards her when his path was blocked by another family member.

Gregory, decked out in a leather jacket, tugged forward a pretty young woman that Colin did not recognize.

“Col.”

“Greg.”

“This is Lucy,” said his brother. “My—”

“—friend,” finished Lucy. She flashed a polite smile at Colin. “Your restaurant is really cool.”

Colin noticed that Gregory hadn’t let go of her hand and didn’t look too happy about being described as a ‘friend’, either. So this was the infamous Lucy, the girl that Gregory had sought advice from Penelope for. Colin felt a pang of sympathy for his younger brother and, on the heels of it, a fair bit of sheepishness as well. His jealousy had been completely and utterly unfounded.

“When we’re fully open,” Colin said, by way of reparation, “You two should drop by for dinner. My treat.”

Greg brightened, instantly acknowledging the olive branch for what it was. Lucy, on the other hand, looked a little taken aback. But she thanked Colin politely instead of refusing the offer, which told Colin all he needed to know.

“Good luck,” he said, under his breath.

Greg fistbumped him covertly and then guided Lucy towards their mother.

As the guests slowly began to take their seats, Colin led Penelope and his family to their table.

He looked at the flowers in the centre of the tables and thought of the roses he’d secreted away in the private dining room and felt a flush of anticipation wash over him.

Their server came to take their orders and Colin ordered almost everything on the menu so he could make sure the kitchen was operating smoothly.

As the drinks were poured and the plates of food began to appear on the table, Colin began to realise something was wrong. The pizza was…too salty. The steak was gristly and chewy. The squid ink pasta was bland.

Colin scanned the rest of the room, watching people’s reactions as they ate. Every twitch of their facial expressions made his stomach lurch fretfully.

His family and Penelope did not seem concerned, but Colin leaned over to mutter in Penelope’s ear, “Does the food taste right to you?”

Hyacinth was facetiming Eloise and panned her phone across the length of the table, narrating loudly, “That’s Lucy, Greg’s gi—uh, friend,” she flashed her teeth at Lucy, and quickly moved on, reciting names as if Eloise didn’t know them: “There’s Mum, and Daphne, Simon’s busy so he’s not here, and Kate, Anthony, Benedict, Frannie, John—”

The camera swung towards Colin and Penelope. Their heads were very close together and Penelope was saying in a low voice, “I think the vongole was—” but cut herself off mid-sentence when she realised Hyacinth’s phone was pointed in their direction.

If he hadn’t been so preoccupied with the state of the food, he might have noticed the scowl on Eloise’s face on the tiny, grainy screen. Penelope flushed and waved at his sister as Colin said, “I think I should go check on the kitchens.”

She nodded, her blue eyes taking on a concerned light. Colin smiled reassuringly, squeezing her hand. “I’ll be right back.”

He excused himself and headed to the kitchens. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Anthony frown.

Colin ducked into the kitchen, the caller was barking out orders as chefs rushed about in a well-ordered frenzy. He searched the kitchen for his head chef, Basilio, but couldn’t seem to find him.

“Garret,” Colin called out to the sous chef. “Where’s Basilio?”

“He’s….uh…” Garret’s eyes darted nervously to the walk-in fridge. Frowning, Colin opened the heavy door and ducked inside to find Basilio staring back at him with red, swollen eyes.

“Oh. Hullo, Bridgerton,” Basilio retrieved a handkerchief from his pocket and swiped at his nose.

Under normal circumstances, Colin would recognize that his head chef was in emotional distress and would tactfully give the man a moment to collect himself. But dinner had been truly abysmal and Colin had just stumbled across his head chef hiding inside the walk-in in the midst of a very important dinner service.

“Basilio, we need to talk,” Colin didn’t try to mince his words, his discontent came pouring out. “What the hell happened with the food tonight? You left garlic out of the vongole. It’s like you left chilli powder out of a tteokbokki! The squid ink was tasteless, the crab meat linguine tasted briny, the steak was overcooked and—”

To Colin’s horror, Basilio burst into tears.

Not just any tears. Terrible howls that shook his whole body as he sobbed into his handkerchief. Colin gaped at him.

“I can’t!” Basilio cried. “I thought I could, but I can’t! I’m sorry, Bridgerton!”

The man ran from the fridge, blubbering. Flabbergasted and concerned, Colin followed him.

“Basilio! Wait, where are you going?”

“I’m taking leave, Bridgerton!” his head chef wailed. “I have suffered a terrible loss. I cannot be expected to function in these circumstances. I need at least a month to grieve properly!”

Basilio disappeared.

Shocked, Colin turned to Garret who had watched the scene unfold with a completely stone-faced expression.

“What happened? Did somebody—”

“His dog died,” Garret explained. “The poor girl’s heart suddenly just gave out overnight.”

“His dog died?” repeated Colin.

“He loved her,” said Garret, with an expression that dared Colin to dispute this fact. “She was old and he’s had her since his mum passed. He’s in no state to work.”

“Right,” said Colin blankly. Numb with horror and disbelief, he walked back into the dining room and sat back down in his seat.

Both Anthony and Penelope’s gazes were fixed upon his face as he rejoined the group. Colin avoided meeting Anthony’s eyes, opting to look at Penelope instead. She slipped her hand into his and asked, “What’s wrong?”

He shook his head, still struggling to wrap his head around what had just happened. Basilio couldn’t possibly be serious about taking a month of leave right before Contessa opened. They had a contract. The restaurant couldn’t function without Basilio. They’d be fucked.

“Colin?”

He shouldn’t have talked to Basilio in that manner, he thought as regret and shame churned inside him. He should have been calmer, more objective about the food. Instead he’d lost his temper and started berating a grief-stricken employee.

He’d figure something out. He had to. Colin would let Basilio stew overnight and then reach out to him to apologise once he’d calmed down. They’d sort it out. Surely. They couldn’t delay Contessa’s opening again.

He forced himself to loosen his tight shoulders. A knot was forming in the middle of his back and he knew if he stayed as tense as he was, it would be painful in the morning.

Penelope’s small hand found its way to the precise spot where the knot was forming, as if she somehow knew, and rested there. “Is everything okay, Colin?”

He opened his mouth to respond, to say something reassuring, perhaps, but before he could get any words out a loud piercing scream cut through the dining room. Penelope’s hand slipped from Colin’s back. She gripped his arm, startled.

Colin’s head whipped around. The scream had come from the direction of Fife’s table. One of the influencers he’d brought was pointing at Fife in horror.

“What the fuck?” said Gregory. He immediately recalled that their mother was sitting at the table and pretended he hadn’t spoken.

Colin and Anthony rose from their seats simultaneously while everyone else craned their necks to see what was happening.

Fife was cursing. He snatched a compact mirror from one of the influencers, looked at himself, and then burst out of his chair. “Fucking bitch!”

“What’s going on?” Violet asked, in alarm.

“Good lord,” said Benedict. “He’s as red as a lobster.”

It was an apt comparison, but actually worse than that. An ugly, red rash had broken out over Fife’s face and neck and one of his eyes had begun to swell.

“Sorry, El,” Hyacinth said into her phone, “Call’s over. I need to film this.”

“Don’t film this,” Anthony snapped in her direction.

“But—”

Hyacinth wasn’t the only person who had pulled their phone out. Colin’s heart was pounding in his chest as he crossed the room towards Fife, who had stormed away from his table, cursing and spitting.

“You fucking bitch! You did this!”

It took Colin a few seconds to realise that Fife’s tirade was directed at Maggie Goring, his head of house.

The entire dining hall was watching, including the influencers, and his family, and Anthony, who hovered nearby, his brow deeply creased. Penelope stared at him from the table, her expression horrified. The tightness in Colin’s shoulders grew worse and his stomach clenched.

Wilding and Stanton were staring at him from their tables, expecting him to do something. They always expected him to fix things. He gritted his teeth.

Embarrassment and anger built inside Colin as he sprung into action. He grabbed Fife by the arm, hauling him away from Maggie, who was unflinchingly glaring back at him.

“Get off me!” Fife spat. “She’s a fucking viper, she poisoned me!”

“Calm down,” Colin snapped. “For fuck’s sake, Fife! Not in front of everyone!”

He managed to drag Fife into a corridor just off the kitchen.

“Let go of me,” Fife jerked his arm back. “That vicious bitch did this to me on purpose. She knew I had a shellfish allergy. She tampered with my food!”

“Why the hell would Maggie do that?” Colin demanded.

“She’s mental, isn’t she?” Fife snapped. One eye was completely swollen shut. His lips looked like a pair of fat chipolatas. “All women get deranged when you pay them a little attention, they start getting ideas in their head like you’re going to marry them.”

Colin shook his head in disgust. “I cannot believe you.”

“I’m pressing charges,” Fife ranted.

At that moment, Maggie appeared in the corridor. She surveyed Fife coolly and Colin saw a glint of satisfaction in her eye.

“Oh, your poor face,” Maggie said, saccharine sweet. “You better go to the hospital, Bertie.”

“I’m not going anywhere!” Fife screamed at her. “I’m staying right here to watch the police come and arrest you for attempted murder!”

Colin winced and cast a nervous look at the door to the dining room. There was no way the people out there had missed Fife’s threat. A crowd of kitchen and service staff were beginning to form.

Colin shot them all a fierce glare and watched them scatter like a school of minnows.

“Fife,” Colin stepped in between his irate business partner and Maggie. “You need to calm the fuck down. Maggie, get back into the dining room.”

“I don’t know if I can get back out there after being threatened publicly by one of my bosses,” Maggie said, coolly. “In fact, I might have to hand in my notice.”

Maggie swanned off with a self-satisfied smirk.

As soon as she was gone, Colin rounded on Fife furiously, “How many times—how many fucking times do I have to say this til you get it through your head? Do not sleep with the staff. Is that so hard for you to understand? I’ve barely had time to sleep working to get this place ready to open and because you couldn’t keep your dick in your pants, you’re gonna fuck everything up.”

“Fuck off, Bridgerton,” Fife snapped, pushing at Colin’s chest, forcing him to take a step back. “I’m sick of you always blaming me for your inability to do a simple job. You’re not fucking better than me. What are you doing with that Featherington girl? Don’t you know that the entire family is trash?”

Colin saw red.

“Don’t talk about her like that,” Colin hissed, struggling to keep a lid on his temper.

“Why not? She’s with you for your money, you muppet. Her dad was dealing party drugs to nobs and he tried to rip off a gangster and now he’s six feet under. She’s probably spreading her legs for you to help pay off her dad’s old debts.”

Colin launched himself at Fife, arm swinging out at him, but suddenly someone was at his back, seizing his arms and dragging him away from Fife, who looked both furiously murderous and cowardly at the same time. He flinched as Colin’s fist grazed his puffy cheekbone, barely missing him in a wide arc.

“Colin!”

It was Anthony. Arms clamped around his chest, holding him back. Preventing him from smashing Fife’s stupid, ugly face in.

For the first time in Colin’s life, he truly, honestly, hated someone. He wanted to hit Fife and shut him up.

He wanted Fife to hurt.

His heart and head pounded. He’d never lost his composure like this, not in his twenty-nine years on earth. He’d never wanted to punch anyone before, no matter how angry he got.

“It’s not worth it,” Anthony said in a deep growl into his ear. His palm splayed itself against Colin’s chest and he thumped it several times, over Colin’s thudding heart. Colin blabbered something, the words muddled in anger. Anthony seemed to understand anyway. “He’s an idiot. I know. I know.”

Fife dared to direct his glare at Anthony and mutter a curse. Colin’s rage burst forth again and it took all of his big brother’s strength to hold him back this time.

“Get out,” Anthony said, over Colin’s shoulder. “Go to urgent care. You look ridiculous.”

Fife reddened further, which didn’t seem possible, but he swiped at his face and stormed out of the room.

Colin trembled with rage, too upset to try to break free of his brother’s hold and chase him down to finish what he’d started. The ruins of the night threatened to close in on him.

No Basilio. No Maggie.

No head chef. No manager.

Colin felt sick.

“Breathe,” said Anthony. “Colin, do you hear me?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” his brother replied. “You’re shaking. C’mon.”

Anthony took him into the empty private dining room and closed the doors tightly behind him. “Sit down.”

He was pushed into a chair. Anthony’s hand remained on his shoulder, as if to hold him in place.

“I’m fine,” Colin repeated, his breath ragged.

He closed his eyes against whatever expression his brother wore, blocking out everything except for the sound of his heart pumping blood through his body. Adrenaline coursed through him, making him reckless. He felt raw and the tightness in his stomach and shoulders wouldn’t ease.

“What happened?”

There was no way to avoid this conversation, so Colin told Anthony everything. Well, almost everything, he left out the insulting things Fife had said about Penelope.

Anthony looked grim. “I see.” He paused and then said, “It’s not your fault.”

Wasn’t it? Shouldn’t he have known, instead of taking it for granted that Fife would mess around with their staff? Why hadn’t he made a point of forbidding fraternisation within the business?

“I should have seen it coming,” Colin said, a fresh surge of anger overtaking him.

“What Fife does is not your responsibility. Don’t blame yourself for this.”

Platitudes from his brother weren't what he wanted to hear. Colin shrugged off Anthony’s hand, which had been squeezing his shoulder. “Don’t give me that. We both know tonight has turned out to be a spectacular shitshow.”

Fuck. The blood drained from his face, thinking of his family and the rest of the guests. What were they thinking? He wouldn’t be surprised if someone put all of this on social media.

He shouldn’t have allowed Fife to bring those influencers.

“I fucked up,” he muttered, lowering his face into his hands.

“You’ve done an incredible job,” Anthony said.

Colin snorted.

“I mean it.” Anthony was silent for a moment, then he sighed. “It’s not as bad as you think.”

“It’s a fucking mess!”

“Once you’ve composed yourself, we’ll go back out there and carry on with dinner. The head chef might have left the premises, but your sous chef is perfectly capable of taking over for the rest of the service. Basilio isn’t in charge of the desserts and your patisserie chef is still doing her job. Fife may have disgraced himself, but that isn’t a reflection on you. Anyone who says otherwise will answer to me.”

Anthony sounded so confident, but Colin’s spirit was broken.

“How are we supposed to get anyone to eat here when one of the owners gets food poisoning—”

“He’s allergic to shellfish,” Anthony corrected. “That’s very different.”

“He was poisoned.”

“We’ll take care of it.”

Colin exhaled angrily. “I should have taken care of it before it ever happened! This is my restaurant!”

The silence that fell was deafening.

“Yes. It’s your restaurant. I regret that now.”

Colin stiffened.

“You’re unhappy. You’re stressed. This is not what I thought would happen—I thought you enjoyed running restaurants. You said you did.”

He felt like stone, hard and cold all over, except for the tiny part deep in his chest where his fear of being perceived resided. A sharp pain throbbed there.

He’d failed.

“Colin.” Something in Anthony’s tone made him look up, despite the despair and humiliation pooling in his gut. “We’re brothers. You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

He felt his heart crack, just a little.

“I just wanted to accomplish something, on my own, for once.”

“You already have.”

He hadn’t. It had all fallen into pieces, at the drop of a hat. His work had proven to be a house of cards. One tiny flick and it all came crashing down.

“You’ve worked yourself to the bone. Do you think I haven’t noticed? Mum is worried sick about you. So am I.” A softness crept into Anthony’s eyes, both unusual and disconcerting. Colin wanted to look away, but he didn’t. “I wish you’d talk to me. Trust me. I’m your brother. I want to help you.”

Colin let out a ragged breath. “I—I trust you. That’s not—”

“Be honest with me. Are you unhappy?”

He couldn’t speak.

“You are.”

“I’m fine.”

“Enough,” Anthony said. “You’re going on holiday.”

Colin’s head snapped up. “What?”

“I said, you’re going on holiday.”

“What the hell are you on about? I’m not going anywhere—”

“You need a break or you’ll snap.”

Was Anthony kicking him out? Threatening to take away his restaurants? He stared at Anthony, but all he saw was sympathy. Concern. Somehow that was worse.

“I mean it, Colin. Go anywhere. Take Penelope with you. The only time I see you smiling these days is when you’re with her. It’ll do you good.”

“I can’t,” Colin said flatly.

“You can. It’s not weakness, Colin. Mental health is important. I take holidays. I’d lose my mind, otherwise. And Kate wouldn’t appreciate that.”

“But—”

“I’ll handle the situation here,” Anthony said solemnly. He held up a hand, quelling the hot retort Colin was about to make. “I won’t make any big decisions—I know this is your project. But I’ll smooth everything over while you take a break. You'll have the last say—I promise I’ll consult with you before anything major happens. Go. Even if it’s just for a week. You can be back here for the grand opening and it’ll be like you never went away.”

The thought of handing over the reins was simultaneously terrifying and alluring. He resisted, parts of him angry with Anthony for trying to take over. But deep, deep down, he felt a pang of aching relief.

Contessa would be in safe hands with Anthony.

He imagined leaving all of this behind. Not spending every waking moment fretting and stressed out. Micromanaging every single facet. Dealing with fucking Fife and the others. Letting someone else put out the fires.

Colin’s mouth opened. He struggled to find words. “It’s not that simple. Basilio’s dog died. He wants bereavement leave.”

“Fair enough,” Anthony said swiftly. Colin thought he was probably thinking of Kate and her dog, Newton. “He’ll have it. But he’ll be back.”

There was a look in Anthony’s eyes that brooked no argument. Colin believed him. Basilio would be back. Anthony would make sure of it.

“Maggie,” Colin began, voicing the other major problem. “She—”

“Shouldn’t have poisoned one of her bosses, even if he is a prick. I won’t let Fife press charges. He’ll survive. She’ll be here, too. Until we decide otherwise. Someone who’ll tamper with food isn’t trustworthy in this industry, but we can find a replacement later once things are settled.”

“We don’t have proof she did it on purpose,” Colin pointed out, hollowly. Anthony shrugged. They both knew she had.

Hell, Fife deserved it.

She’s with you for your money, you muppet. He clenched his fists and said nothing.

“He’s out,” Anthony continued.

Colin regarded him. “Out?”

“I want him out. You disagree?”

No, he thought coldly. He was done with Fife. He should have been long before this.

His brother mistook his silence as reluctance. “It can wait until you get back from your holiday.”

“I’m not—”

But Anthony was already walking towards the door, throwing a final word over his shoulder. “I’ll go and see what’s going on in the dining room. You stay here until you’ve cooled down. Come back when you’re ready.”

Anthony left the room and Colin was alone.

He stared blankly at his hands, until they stopped shaking, and then let himself think about the things Fife had said.

Fife was an asshole and a shit boss and a terrible investment partner. He was mean and careless and lashed out regularly. Colin knew he shouldn’t believe anything Fife said, especially not about Penelope or her family.

Her dad was dealing party drugs to nobs and he tried to rip off a gangster and now he’s six feet under.

A chill took root inside him. He knew Penelope’s dad owed a great deal of money to several different people—Fife’s father included. He didn’t think Fife was lying about this, as much as he wanted to believe otherwise.

Was Archie Featherington dead?

Fuck. Colin rubbed at his face. Penelope would be devastated if it were true. They never spoke of her father and any mention of him or the ongoing investigation made her close off as tightly as a clam.

His hand froze on his face as a tiny voice in the back of his head wondered, does she know?

If she knew…

He blinked away the wave of anxiety that had settled over him. It didn’t matter, he told himself.

But it did. It mattered that Penelope hadn’t trusted him enough to confide in him.

Then, suddenly, she appeared. The door to the private dining room opened and Penelope slipped in, looking as beautiful and concerned as he’d left her. She crossed the room to his side, her hand reaching for his.

“Colin? Is everything alright?”

Colin reached for her, drawing her between his legs and pressing his weary face in the folds of her silver gown. “I’m alright.”

She ran her fingers through the hair at the back of his head and he felt himself melting into her arms.

His conviction that Fife was a bloody fucking idiot spouting nonsense was stronger than ever.

Fife was wrong.

Penelope only gave. She would never use him. He’d been the one to swoop in to the rescue, convincing her to come stay with him that night so long ago at Scotland Yard. Penelope had resisted.

Even now, she was trying to comfort him. He’d used her. Everytime he was stressed or angry, she gave herself up to him. The one-sided nature of their relationship became terribly crystal-clear to him at that moment: for all his provisionment of physical comforts…he’d never really broken through. All the handbags and bath oils in the world couldn’t buy him Penelope Featherington’s secrets.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?”

He wanted to ask her the same.

Instead, he said bitterly, “My head chef wants to take a month off right before the grand opening. My restaurant manager just tried to poison Fife. Oh, and Fife is a first class twat.”

“Oh, is that all?” Penelope said lightly, trying to inject levity into the situation. Colin gripped her waist as he babbled away, unable to say the things he really wanted to say.

It was fortunate that Anthony had dragged him into this private room and not the one across the hall. The one that had been set up with flowers, a special dessert, and a Cartier love necklace meant for Penelope and Penelope alone.

He’d planned it all so carefully.

Instead of holding her hand and kissing her, he was muttering a litany of complaints into her beautiful dress.

He couldn’t possibly go through with it now. The evening had been thoroughly ruined and his disappointment was devastating.

He inhaled deeply and loosened his hold on her hips.

Colin lifted his head to gaze up at her. “Anthony thinks I’m too unstable to do my job right now and he’s sending me away on a break.”

Soft blue eyes gazed back down at him. She cared for him, he knew she did. He couldn’t have misread those eyes, or that look, or the way she did everything she could to make him happy. She trusted him to do things to her in bed that he wouldn’t have dared to ask any other woman.

If he hadn’t been so busy, would things have been different? Would she have felt comfortable enough to tell him about her father without feeling like she was burdening him?

Guilt flooded him.

Penelope said softly, “Anthony’s a good brother. He cares so much for you.”

What about you?

“He does. I just wish he didn’t have to come in and bail me out when I’m out of my depth. I wanted so badly to prove myself to him. And all I managed to do was disappoint him and create a mess for him to clean up.”

“Colin, it’s okay to let someone take care of you when you’re struggling. Isn’t that what you’ve been doing for me? He isn’t disappointed in you. Your brother loves you, that’s why he wants to help you.”

He had to bite on his tongue to stop himself saying, I take care of you because I love you.

“I hate seeing you so down, Colin. The restaurant is beautiful. The food just needs some adjustment. Isn’t that what soft openings are for? For you to find any blindspots and fix them up before the grand opening?”

“Yes, you’re right.”

The sentence she uttered next completely shattered him. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again.

He was done being selfish.

He said, emphatically, “Come away with me.”

“What?”

This whole time, he’d been fighting his own work schedule and personal problems without truly giving all of himself to Penelope. How could he ask her to commit to him when he could only devote a fraction of his time to her in return?

Colin wet his lips with his tongue and said, pleadingly, “Anthony says I need a holiday. He’s right. But I want you to come with me.”

She was just as stressed as he was. She deserved a break, too.

“What—?” Penelope laughed, but then she realised he wasn’t joking. “Colin, I can’t leave. I have to go to work.”

“Can’t you ask Agatha if she could spare you for a week? Please, Pen? It’s only a week.”

“I…you really want me to come with you?”

His heart began to race. “More than anything.”

Penelope hesitated and then said slowly, “Okay…I’ll ask, but I can’t guarantee she’ll say yes. It’s such short notice.”

Hope was cresting in his chest. He squeezed her hand, full of gratitude. “It already means so much to me that you’d ask. Thank you.”

He would take her away from all of this and once he’d earned her trust—showed her how devoted and loving and wonderful it could be between them—he’d tell her he loved her.

Chapter Text

Agatha granted Penelope one weeks’ leave. Taking into account the weekends and the travel time, that meant they had close to ten days to go anywhere in the world.

So, on a rainy Friday evening after Penelope came home from work, Colin took her to Bali.

On the way to the airport in their cab, Penelope held onto his hand excitedly, eyes wide with disbelief and barely repressed excitement. She’d never been to Asia, nowhere even close.

He’d made sure that she barely had the time to overthink and worry about what she would wear on the trip—Colin had grinned and reassured her that all she needed to pack was her skimpiest bikini and his favourite set of lingerie, as there was nothing else that he wanted to see her in during their holiday. That earned him a lovely, saucy little blush he couldn’t get enough of.

Playing the part of doting and attentive boyfriend was enjoyable for Colin. He loved the astonishment on Penelope’s face as they boarded their flight and were shown to their first class suite. She looked positively stunned and her reaction further cemented his determination to show her the very best of what he was able to give her.

Colin had booked a double suite for the flight. The centre divider between the two suites had been removed so that they could sleep together on a luxurious double bed during their flight. It was an overindulgence to book first class when business class was perfectly comfortable, but it was a long flight and Colin had an abundance of frequent flyer points gathering dust.

Besides, it pleased him to spoil Penelope.

They had been served a delicious dinner of caviar and blinis, charcoal grilled beef tenderloin, lobster thermidor, a generous cheese platter, and a chocolate tart, all served on wedgewood china. They took turns in the lavatory before putting on their complimentary pyjamas and getting ready to turn in for the night.

Colin was already in bed when Penelope returned to their suite and snuggled up against him, pressing her soft breasts against his back.

Colin rolled over so he could stroke his thumb over her freshly washed face and plump lips.

“I already think this is the best part of this holiday,” Penelope told Colin sincerely. “I just had a shower. On a plane.”

Colin chuckled, “There’s so much more to come baby. I promise.”

Penelope's eyes softened and she leaned in for a kiss, which Colin was all too happy to give her. His body was thrumming with excitement. It had been a long time since he’d had cause to travel for pleasure. And he was doing this with his dream girl. It seemed like a gift.

After all, he loved her.

The realisation had hit him the night Gregory had taken Penelope out. He’d never felt even a fraction of the jealousy he’d felt that night before…and the intimacy that followed had overwhelmed him with its intensity. After a sleepless night and a day or two of deliberation and agonising emotional swings between guilt and exhilaration, Colin decided there was nothing for it except to accept his feelings and forge on ahead.

Frankly, he was stunned he hadn’t realised earlier how he felt. He was glad Anthony had convinced him to take a break—it would give him another opportunity to secure Penelope’s affections.

He’d prove to her that he was worthy of her, that could make her happy.

Colin couldn’t seem to get enough of her taste; he devoured her lips and licked into her mouth to get more of her when it felt like it wasn’t enough. When he reached under her pyjama top to cup one breast, she gasped and her eyes flew open.

“You’ll have to stay quiet so nobody hears you,” Colin whispered.

Her eyes widened but, when he pinched a nipple, she sighed and closed her eyes, giving over to him.

Their suite wasn’t fully enclosed or soundproof, but the low, constant drone of the plane’s engines was loud enough to mask her small pants and the gasp she made when his hand slipped under the waistline of her pyjama bottoms.

He took his time, savouring every hitch of her breath, every flutter of her lashes. He built her up slowly, rubbing small, slick circles around her swollen clit until her soft little body was writhing, her hips straining desperately for more. He kissed a path down her throat until he closed his lips around one hard nipple to suckle her as he slipped two fingers inside her. She was so wet he had to fuck her slow and gentle, so that the whole plane wouldn’t hear how slick she was between her legs.

When she came, she did so with a sexy little whimper. Colin kept his thumb pressed soothingly against her clit until her thighs stopped trembling.

🎀 🎀 🎀

They touched down in Changi Airport at six in the evening for a three hour layover. Colin took her to the Jewel, a shopping complex located in a huge glass dome, five stories high with a rain vortex in the centre. They had mouthwateringly fragrant chicken rice and spicy, creamy laksa for dinner.

Then, because they still had three more hours to kill, Colin took Penelope shopping.

“Colin, please don’t spend anymore money on me,” Penelope protested after he’d brought her two new swimsuits, a pair of sandals, and a small pile of light, flowy dresses.

“It’s like you don’t want to have matching sunnies with me,” Colin said petulantly, as he slipped a pair of Armani sunglasses on her face.

She laughed, “Alright, we can get matching sunnies, but that’s it!”

But, of course, Colin didn’t stop at the sunglasses. He wanted her to have some nice jewellery to wear out to dinner so, while Penelope was browsing books in a WH Smith, Colin ducked into Tiffany’s and purchased a pair of diamond stud earrings and a matching tennis bracelet. He hid the small bag amongst the larger bags to surprise her with later.

They reboarded their plane. It was only a short flight to Bali. Penelope curled up in her swivel chair, absorbed in a new book she had purchased. Colin smiled at her fondly. He’d just spent a small fortune buying her clothes and accessories and her favourite purchase from the airport ended up being a mystery thriller that cost ten quid.

“Have you turned to the last page yet?” Colin asked her.

Penelope smiled at him. “I haven’t. I’m trying to learn to sit back and see where the story takes me.”

He grinned at her, feeling warm and syrupy. He filled the time watching some travel documentaries about Bali and making up a list of restaurants he would like to visit during their stay.

It was close to midnight on Saturday evening when they arrived in Bali. After clearing immigration, they entered the arrivals halls and were greeted with a rush of humid air. After a few minutes, Colin’s t-shirt was already sticking to his body. The airport was crowded and noisy with people holding up signs and drivers shouting at them, asking them if they needed a taxi.

Penelope’s face was strained and startled as she trailed behind him and she shot him a grateful smile when he took her by the hand and led her to where a man stood in a neat driver’s uniform, holding a sign with “Bridgerton” printed on it.

Their ride to the resort took twenty minutes and they were greeted with smiles and flower garlands and complimentary coconuts stamped with the resort’s logo. The sky was inky dark as their luggage was loaded onto a small shuttle cart and driven out to their private villa atop a cliff overlooking the ocean. It was a pity that Penelope did not get the full effect of the ocean view, but Colin could hear the gentle crash of the waves below them as the buggy approached their villa.

“We should try and get a few hours’ sleep,” Colin told Penelope as she wandered through their one bedroom villa, eyes wide with astonishment and wonder.

Penelope didn’t look like she had heard him as she left him to explore into the bathroom.

“Colin, there’s a flower bath!” She ran back into the bedroom where Colin had been trying to sort out their luggage, her face lit up as she dragged him into the enormous marble bathroom to show him the round bath, filled to the brim with water and rose petals.

The bath was set in front of a set of wooden sliding doors overlooking their private gardens. Colin could make out a pool, hedges, softly swaying trees, and—below the edge of the cliff and stretching out towards the horizon—the Indian ocean. A bottle of champagne was chilling in an ice bucket along with two champagne flutes.

Penelope reached for the top button of his shirt impatiently. “Take a bath with me,” she demanded.

Colin held back his amusement at how demanding her tone was and let her unbutton his shirt and push it off his shoulders. Then his trousers came off. Then he helped her strip. Once they were both naked, Colin helped Penelope into the bath before following her, sinking into the cool, rose-fragranced water with a sigh of relief.

Penelope climbed into his lap and stroked her thumbs down his cheeks and along his jawline. He closed his eyes blissfully, leaning his head back against the rim of the enormous bath so he could savour her touch.

“We should try and get some sleep after we’re done with our bath,” Colin said, settling into the water with her lying contentedly on his chest. “Even if it's just a nap. So we can wake up with the sunrise and we won’t be wrecked for the rest of the day.”

“I won’t be able to sleep,” Penelope said. “I’m too excited. Everything here is so beautiful. The air smells like sea salt and frangipanis.”

“What do you want to do tomorrow?” Colin asked indulgently, stroking her back, inordinately pleased by her joy.

“I want to do everything,” Penelope said, looking up at him with earnest eyes.

Colin laughed, “I think we’ll go down to the beach for a sunrise swim. Then we’ll go to the resort to check out their breakfast spread—I fancy a nasi goreng and fresh papaya juice. After breakfast we’ll head out for some touristy things, visit the markets, and get some lunch. We’ll have to be back by four for our complimentary massages. After that, we can either grab dinner at one of the restaurants at the resort or order room service.”

Colin also had plans for the evening that involved Penelope in one of her new swimsuits and their private pool, but he kept that to himself.

“That sounds like the perfect day.”

Perfect enough to win him her heart, Colin hoped. She blinked dreamily up at him and he noticed the smudges beneath her eyes. She wasn’t used to long-haul flights, even with layovers.

He kissed her on the nose. “Only if you get some sleep tonight. You’re no good to me if you’re exhausted.”

Penelope pouted, just a little. “I’ll try, but I don’t know how you expect me to sleep in these conditions.”

“These conditions?”

“Well, my sugar daddy has whisked me away on an impromptu holiday halfway around the world. He’s got me trapped here in this luxurious private villa, completely at his mercy.”

His dick was already half hard from Penelope’s naked body pressed up against him. Her words and the coquettish glance up at him had him at full mast in less than a second.

“You have nothing to be worried about, baby,” Colin leaned forward, his tone deepening. “As long as you do exactly as Daddy says.”

Her cheeks flushed pink and Colin wanted to laugh, but instead he tipped her chin up so he could kiss her.

The kiss was languid and deep and Colin never wanted it to end. In fact, as he pulled her in closer so that her soft breasts were cushioned against his chest, he realised that he could kiss her for as long as he wanted to. There would be no urgent crisis to interrupt them and there was nowhere else he needed to be—all he had to think about was Penelope’s soft lips and the sweet little moans and sighs she let out as she pressed herself needily against him.

Colin licked into her mouth, sliding his tongue against hers as the kiss grew increasingly heated. Penelope’s hips under the water shifted as she began to grind impatiently against his lap.

When he broke the kiss and pulled back, Penelope made a soft whining noise and chased after his mouth.

“Sit up on the ledge here, baby,” Colin said, his breath coming out in pants. Penelope did as she was told and Colin’s breath was momentarily knocked out of his lungs as he watched her rising from the bath, streams of water running down her sinfully perfect body, pink and red petals clinging to her wet skin and to strands of her hair. Her body was insane; every inch of her was rounded, soft, and designed to drive him wild.

She perched daintily on the edge of the bath, her lips parted and eyes stormy with desire as she gazed at him. He reached for the champagne bottle and twisted the cork free with a loud pop that reverberated in the bathroom. Without taking his eyes off hers, he took a gulp straight from the bottle.

Her eyes darkened further. Colin offered it to Penelope, allowing her to take a sip before he tilted the bottle and spilled the pale gold liquid over her breasts. She gasped at the chilly sensation. Colin watched, mesmerised, as the liquid fell down the slopes of her gorgeous breasts, the gentle curve of her stomach, before pooling between her thighs. She whimpered as he leaned forward to suck a droplet off one perky nipple.

“Open,” Colin nudged at her legs before she slowly spread them wide.

She planted her palms on the edge of the tub for balance before leaning back to give him an unhindered view of her soft pink cunt. This time, he poured the champagne over her lower belly. She shuddered as the cold bubbly flowed down her belly and soaked the folds of her bare pussy that she kept nicely waxed bare, just for him.

She did so many things to make him happy, things he didn’t want to take for granted. Surely it was a sign that she loved him, too? He felt a pang in his chest at the thought, but pushed it down, focusing on the moment.

Colin took his time, pouring the champagne over her tits and her pussy before lapping at her skin until she was moaning and writhing, her fingers tangled in his hair as she begged and cried out. He made her come with just his mouth, sucking on her clit. Then he fucked her with two fingers and his mouth until she came again. She was wetter than the sea and she’d soaked his lips and chin and his senses were reduced to just Pen, champagne, and roses. Even then, his hunger for her wasn’t satiated.

He dried her off and took her into the bedroom and laid her down and buried his face between her thighs again. Colin loved how sensual Penelope was in bed, the way she gave herself over to pleasure. Tonight, she was particularly wound up, she arched her spine, tilted her hips eagerly to take his fingers, and she screamed and thrashed on the sheets as she came.

Her pleasure was so beautiful, he made her come again and again until he lost track of how many times she’d come, until she was so sensitive she seemed to be coming every minute and she was begging him to stop.

“Colin,” Penelope sobbed, her hand covering her sex in an attempt to shield herself while he was distracted by how her thighs couldn’t seem to stop shaking. “Colin, I can’t anymore. Please.”

“You come so prettily, baby,” Colin crawled over her body to capture her lips in a tender kiss. He rubbed his throbbing cock against her folds. When he brushed against her opening, she was so slick and soft that the tip slipped inside easily. She felt so good, throbbing and contracting tightly around the head of his cock. He panted against her mouth as he jerked his cock urgently with his hand. A few tugs and he was groaning and panting as he came, the tip nestled inside her lovely cunt.

They managed to take themselves into the bathroom for a quick shower before collapsing back on the bed.

Penelope fell asleep mid-sentence and Colin couldn’t help the smug smile that crossed his face as closed his eyes and snuggled her body closer to him.

🎀 🎀 🎀

Their days passed in a blur of laughter, good food, and scorching hot sex.

They visited a sacred monkey forest, trekked through a field of cascading rice paddies, and watched sunsets from a cliff top bar perched on a rock right above the ocean.

They treated themselves to spa treatments, massages, body scrubs, and masks. Penelope would return to their villa after a visit to the main resort spa soft and aglow with contentment, her fiery hair falling in perfect waves around her beloved face, before getting dressed to go out for dinner.

Colin took her to the newest and buzziest restaurants that ranged from a classy underwater restaurant to a burger joint. They sampled mahi-mahi ceviche, babi guling-spiced pork belly, a twenty-course plant-based tasting menu, venison wellington with rendang sauce, and slow-cooked octopus marinated in fragrant ginger masala.

He’d missed this. The joy of travelling was amplified a hundredfold by having Penelope with him. Seeing her sharing in his delight, being able to show her the things he found interesting and fascinating…he was more certain than ever that this was the life he was meant for.

Being with Penelope. Loving Penelope.

It took every bit of his self-control not to sink to his knees at any given moment and propose to her. They weren’t quite there yet, unfortunately. He still had to prove himself to her.

One day, when Penelope and Colin had grown sick of the rich food, Colin found them a café, run by a cheerful Australian couple. Colin ordered a full brekkie, which was as close to an English breakfast as he could get in this part of the world, and Penelope ordered an açaí berry bowl.

When the owner, Kingsley, had come by their tables to take their orders, he and Colin struck up a conversation. Kingsley told Colin that nobody else in the world did sausages quite like the Brits and Colin bemoaned how much he would have killed for a full English fry up.

When their food arrived, Colin was delighted to find Kingsley had added beans, mushrooms, and sausages to his breakfast order.

“No black pudding, I’m afraid,” Kingsley winked as he set the plate before Colin. “But the bangers aren’t half bad.”

Kingsley and Colin got to chatting and Colin discovered Kingsley had previously been the owner and chef of a top restaurant in Sydney.

“I was barely sleeping,” Kingsley explained. “I got heartburn before every dinner service. I barely saw my missus and the only time we did spend with each other, we’d either be screaming or ignoring one another. Selling the restaurant and moving over here was the best thing I ever did. I’ve got just enough work to keep me sane and me and Trish go for a surf in the arvo when we shut up the shop.”

“You don’t miss it at all?” Colin wondered.

“Nah,” Kingsley said. “I’m well out of it. What’s the point in working eighty hour weeks? I couldn’t even remember why I’d wanted to do it in the first place. Could barely stand looking at the food I was cooking towards the end.”

Colin was quiet and contemplative as they returned to their villa. Penelope went for a swim in their pool while Colin sat on the couch and checked his phone. He read through the most recent texts from his siblings. Daphne was demanding an update from him on his trip, so Colin sent her a few recent snaps that mostly featured a beaming, slightly sunburnt Penelope in the foreground and one of the two of them at the Rock Bar.

He and Penelope were perched on bar stools with a glorious, fiery sunset as the backdrop. Penelope wore a white flowing dress with his diamonds on her ears and Colin was gazing down at her with a dopey, besotted expression.

[From Daphne at 2:11PM]

Aww! You guys look SO cute together 😍

Is it official now?

[From Colin at 2:12PM]

Not yet

[From Daphne at 2:12PM]

What?!

What do you mean!?

You’re on holiday together!?

[From Colin at 2:12PM]

I’m working up to it

[From Daphne at 2:13PM]

Well if it’s not official by the time you touch down in London, I’m going to book you in with Mary Ann again.

🤔

Maybe you should have gotten her the Constance as well.

You gotta buy the 👜 to get it in the 👜

Colin reacted with a sarcastic eye roll emoji and set his phone down.

His mind drifted back to the conversation he’d had with Kingsley. The words felt like they’d lodged themselves into his brain and wouldn’t come out, chastising him with their truth: he felt the same way.

Colin was exhausted. Every single day. He worked nonstop, ridiculous hours, pushing himself to his physical and mental limits. The sheer relief he’d felt when he boarded the plane to Bali had ignited a feeling in his gut that only grew stronger after talking to Kingsley.

He wanted out.

There wasn’t any joy in what he was doing with Ambrosia and Contessa anymore. He’d lost the spark and the rush. He barely saw his family and spent most of his time stressed, without an outlet for his frustrations.

Another epiphany. He was having quite a lot of them lately, Colin thought with chagrin.

It’s time to let go.

Fear accompanied the relief with some measure of lingering regret. All that work, just to give it up?

No point if you’re miserable. His mind helpfully sprung the thought in Kingsley’s voice and Colin felt certain that the real Kingsley would say the same thing if asked. The obvious contentment that radiated from the man made Colin jealous. He allowed himself to imagine another life—a life where his work was finished by three o’clock in the afternoon, where he had the time to sit and enjoy a chat with his customers, a life where he had time to spend with Penelope.

The yearning that rose up in him was so swift and so strong, he rose from his seat on the sofa and walked to the window. Penelope was reclining on a sun lounger beside the pool reading a book. She had on a cute bucket hat and sunglasses to protect her face from the sun and her delectable body was swallowed up by one of his shirts that she wore over her bathing suit.

Colin felt his feet moving towards her without thinking. She looked up at the sound of his approach and smiled.

“Hello,” Penelope said.

“Hi,” He took a seat on the lounge at her feet. “Are you missing home yet?”

“Are you joking? Am I missing the rain and the cold and the daily slog of work and Cressida’s annoying voice in my ear? No. Are you?” She soothed her hand over his thigh. “Are you missing the restaurants?”

Colin laughed, “No, not even a little. I was just thinking about Kingsley closing the café in the middle of the day to go surfing with his wife. I was thinking, if only that was my life. Finishing work early, so I’d have enough time to have dinner waiting for you when you came home from work.”

Penelope did not say anything for a moment, clearly surprised. “I thought you loved your restaurants. You work so hard.”

“I do. I mean, I thought I did. But after the soft opening, I guess I’ve been wondering…what is it all for when the end result is making me so miserable?”

“You've had no support,” Penelope pointed out. “Your business partners are supposed to be in this with you, but they only seem to make things worse instead of helping.”

Colin nodded in agreement. “There’ll be a reckoning when I get back. Especially for Fife.”

Penelope lips twitched, “I almost feel sorry for him. Having an allergic reaction, having it go viral on the internet, and then getting pushed out of the business all within a few weeks.”

Colin recalled Fife’s cruel words about Penelope and her family, “Don’t waste a minute feeling bad for that prick,” Colin told her. “He doesn’t deserve it.”

Speaking of Fife…

“Have you heard any updates from the police about your father while we’ve been away?” Colin inquired casually.

Penelope shook her head, “No. Nothing.”

Colin wished she wasn’t wearing her sunglasses so he could read her expression, but she reached for the bottle of sunscreen resting beside the chair and handed it to him. “Do you mind?”

Penelope sat up to shed his shirt before lying back on the lounge. She was wearing a black one piece he’d bought for her in Singapore. The plunging neckline and crisscrossing straps wrapped around her waist immediately distracted Colin from the conversation that they’d been having.

Penelope giggled at his expression and squirmed as he attended to the task of applying sun lotion to every inch of her creamy soft skin. Despite a week of visits to the beach and soaking in the sun, Penelope had retained her fair complexion save for some light sunburn, but Colin found new freckles to trace on her back and shoulders.

When she turned onto her stomach so he could do her back and the backs of her thighs, his blood heated as he noticed a faint bruise on her thigh where he’d gripped her a tad too tightly when he’d fucked her in the shower that morning. Or possibly it was from last night, when he’d persuaded her to go skinny dipping in the plunge pool and he’d had her pressed against the smooth stone wall of the pool.

He could admit to himself that he had gone mad for her. It barely took anything for him to get hard in her presence—a coy smile, a glimpse of her naked body as she undressed in the bathroom, her sleepy content expression when she woke up next to him.

Fuck, even the sound of her laugh could get him hard.

He was so in love with her, his obsession was almost frightening, completely untamed and animalistic.

He would do anything to please her.

He would do anything to keep her.

Sometimes, doubts would creep into his mind and he worried whether he was too much, whether he was smothering her, whether his increased sex drive was a problem. But every time, without fail, his touch would make her shiver. When he reached between her legs, he would find her soaked. The sexy moans that she made when he was inside her—

He reached for the clasp at the back of her neck holding up her swimsuit and undid it. Penelope glanced over her shoulder with a knowing look.

“I need to do your front, Pen,” Colin said, in a very serious tone. “I can’t take you back to London with sunburnt tits.”

“How thoughtful of you,” Penelope laughed as she rolled obligingly onto her back.

🎀 🎀 🎀

Colin felt a pang of regret as their days in Bali began to run out, but a hardened resolve had taken root inside him. Anthony had been right, this trip was exactly what he had needed. He felt steadier, calmer, ready to return to his work.

First thing on his return, he would meet with his solicitor and Anthony to discuss the best approach in forcing Fife out of the business. Then, once Contessa was open and running steadily, Colin would discuss selling his shares to Stanton and Wilding in return for full ownership of Ambrosia.

He wanted to give Rae and Dunwoody equity stakes in the restaurant. He trusted them and Penelope was right. He did love Ambrosia, but he needed competent partners so that he could still have some semblance of a life. He wanted to be able to whisk Penelope away on more holidays and spend his evenings and weekends with her.

On their last day in Bali, Colin and Penelope spent most of it lounging at the Ocean Beach Pool Club, sipping ice cold drinks and eating snacks beside an infinity pool located on the cliff’s edge overlooking the ocean. In the afternoon, Penelope left him for one last pamper session at the spa.

When she returned to their villa, Colin surprised her with a private romantic dinner. A small table had been set in the garden pavilion surrounded by the soft, intimate glow of a hundred candles and rose petals. A private chef served them a traditional Balinese meal and a young man strummed a guitar while a woman crooned acoustic covers of nineties hits to them while they ate.

When Colin asked Penelope to dance with him, she shyly accepted. As they swayed gently under the starlight, Colin gazed down into her eyes, not caring if she could see everything written over his face. Three simple words hung in the air between them, and he would have said them—it was on the tip of his tongue—but Penelope averted her gaze and buried his face in his shoulder and the small tremor of her body gave him pause.

“What’s wrong?” Colin asked.

“It just got a little chilly,” Penelope replied, her voice muffled by his shirt.

So, even though it hurt him to do so, he kept his confession to himself and tried to commit every detail to his memory of this moment, dancing with Penelope under the moon and the stars while the waves crashed against the cliffs below them.

🎀 🎀 🎀

Colin was awoken abruptly in the middle of the night. He lay there wondering what had pulled him out of his slumber. The room was silent save for the low hum of the air conditioner. He rolled over reaching for Penelope and found himself alone in the bed. He thought that she had probably gotten up for a drink of water. But, as he lay there in bed, the minutes ticked by and Penelope did not return.

He got out of bed and stumbled through the villa. The living room and kitchenette was empty. Movement in the garden caught his eye and he spotted Penelope in the garden, sitting on the lounge chair. She had her phone pressed to her ear.

As Colin watched, she ended the call and stared out at the pool, shoulders curled over herself. Something in her dejected posture called out to him and he stepped into the gardens.

“Pen?”

She turned, startled. “Colin. Sorry. Did I wake you?”

“No. Is everything okay?” He sat next to her on the lounge chair.

Her expression was hard to read in the darkness, but he felt her shrug. “It was just Pru. Something about the wedding. I think she forgot about the time difference.”

His gut told him that wasn’t the truth. He felt a flare of unhappiness that she still did not trust him even after the past week they had shared.

“Right,” he only said.

Penelope got to her feet, “I’m going to go for a little walk.”

“Now? Pen, it's two in the morning.” Colin said disapprovingly. The resort had security, but it was dark and some of the paths weren’t very well lit.

“I’ll be fine. Go back to bed, okay?”

Colin couldn’t seem to shirk the feeling that she was leaving to get away from him.

“Pen. Wait,” Colin stood up quickly, blocking her path. “I know something’s bothering you. I can feel it. Please talk to me.”

“I’m fine, Colin. I only need a moment.”

“Do you think we can talk, when you come back?”

They were standing closer to the villa and Colin could make out the surprise and discomfort that flashed across her face at his request.

“I…there’s nothing to talk about, Colin. I’ll be fine, I only need a moment to myself.”

Colin felt his temper flare and his resentment spilled over. He loved her. Hadn’t he done everything he could to show her? Now he was reduced to begging her to let him in and she was still refusing to open up to him.

“Who called you?” Colin demanded. “Who were you speaking to just now?”

“What?”

“Was that really Prudence?”

“I told you it was.”

“Show me, then,” Colin ordered. “Show me on your phone. Right now.”

Penelope reared back, staring up at him in disbelief. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Why?” Colin snapped. “Because I caught you lying to me? If it was Prudence, why won’t you show me on your phone?”

Her eyes flashed. “Just because you throw money at me and I let you dress me up like your personal sex doll does not give you the right to know everything in my life!”

If she had slapped him across the face, it would have hurt less. Colin could only stand there and stare at her in stunned silence, her scornful words ringing in his ears.

He turned and walked away. He wasn’t sure what he would say or do if he remained there, so he threw on a pair of trainers and stormed out of the villa.

He walked around aimlessly for close to an hour. Once the anger had cooled, it was swiftly replaced with shame.

What the fuck had come over him? Did he really think he was Penelope’s sugar daddy, that he had the right to tell her what to do?

It was his own fault they were stuck in this stupid mess. He had told her he couldn’t give her a relationship and she’d promised him she had no expectations from him. What the hell even were they? Fuck buddies? Roommates with benefits? A situationship?

Penelope had stuck to their side of the bargain. She’d never demanded anything or asked for more than what he had given her. He had been the one to ask her for more without explaining exactly what he wanted. He had been the one to demand that she drop everything and take a week’s leave to go on a holiday with him. Then he had accused her of lying to him and demanded that she show him her phone.

He’d never, not once, told her he wanted more. How could he blame her for reacting like that? What a fool he had been. Had he really thought that a holiday and some clothes and jewellery would change things? Perhaps that would have worked on some women, but not Penelope.

He was worn out and exhausted by the time he returned to their villa. He’d left without his access card, so he’d been forced to walk to the resort on foot to ask for a replacement and hitched a ride back on a shuttle cart.

He took a cold shower to wash off the sweat and pulled on a clean pair of shorts. When he entered the bedroom, he tried to be as silent as possible but when he opened the closet, he heard a rustling from the bed.

“Colin?”

Penelope’s voice was soft and watery and he felt his heart clench.

“Sorry, I thought you were asleep.”

“What are you doing?”

“I was just getting a blanket and pillow. For the sofa.”

She did not respond, so Colin left the bedroom. He had just laid down on the sofa when Penelope shuffled into the living room. When she flicked on the light, he could see that she was dressed in one of his shirts. As she moved closer, Colin’s heart sank at the sight of her swollen eyes.

“Colin,” she said. “I’m…I’m so sorry. That was cruel and unkind. I didn’t mean it. I don’t know why I said it.”

“I know you didn’t mean it, Pen,” Colin replied, drained and miserable. He had already forgiven her, but the hurt still lingered. “I’m sorry, too. I was acting like a right arse.”

“Please come back to bed,” Penelope sniffed. “Please.”

He rose and took her outstretched hand and followed her into the bedroom. He laid down and Penelope tentatively crawled on top of him, her head tucked into the crook of his shoulder. Colin recalled the first time he had asked her to do this for him and he felt a wave of melancholy.

Her weight on his body usually brought him such a sense of comfort and peace. But now…the atmosphere in the bedroom was tense despite their physical closeness.

Neither of them spoke. Neither of them slept either. They remained wide awake, staring into the darkness.

Then, he felt Penelope’s fingers on his face, stroking his jaw. When he didn’t respond, she began pressing tentative kisses to his neck.

He reached under her shirt and stroked the soft skin on her back. At his touch, she raised her head and kissed his lips.

Her hips shifted against his as they kissed, slow at first, but before long they were moaning into each other's mouths, their tongues sliding and licking deep. When her hand reached into his shorts, he was already hard. She was bare under the shirt, so she only needed to shift her hips and his cock was pressing against her entrance.

She grasped him at the base and slowly sunk onto him. She panted as she fucked herself urgently on him. Colin pressed his lips against the flesh of her cheek, breathing in Penelope’s scent, her cunt was hot and slick and the frantic way she ground down on him made him answer each downward slide with a thrust of his own.

Penelope whimpered against his mouth as their movements sped up. Colin didn’t grope at her tits or try and play with her clit as he usually would have done. This wasn’t playful or horny, it was desperate and wordless. Their bodies had been conditioned to seek out one another for safety and comfort. He grabbed her arsecheek with one hand and threaded his other through the strands of her hair to cradle her head as their bodies strained to get closer, to disappear into each other.

Penelope came first, her body above him tensed, and then he felt it rippling through her as she keened and shuddered all over. Her cunt was tight as a vice and the pleasure ripped through him violently. He held onto her tightly as he fell apart, thrusting deep inside as he flooded her, filling her, claiming her.

Afterwards, Colin held Penelope in his arms, blinking back tears, trying to figure out the source of his wretchedness.

A part of him marvelled that he had never in his life felt closer to another person than with Penelope. But, once their breathing had returned to normal, their blood cooled, and silence crept back into the bedroom, the distance now between seemed more vast and insurmountable than any of the casual flings he’d had in the past. The thought made his stomach hurt.

He couldn’t help wondering whether Penelope had even wanted him or whether it was just her way of apologising to him. Wasn’t this what she had done when he’d been furious about her spending time with Gregory? She hadn’t asked him to talk about why he had been so angry, she’d chosen to soothe him with her body instead.

Then he recalled their conversation by the pool a few days earlier. How he’d tried to tell her how he wanted to work less so he could spend more time with her. She hadn’t even responded. She’d redirected the conversation and then stripped down to her swimsuit to distract him. And it worked. Because he was an idiot with only one thing on his mind.

She hadn’t tried to talk to him after sex.

She hadn’t tried to share anything with him.

Sex was his consolation prize.

🎀 🎀 🎀

Their return to London was sober and filled with long stretches of silence. The drab grey skies and freezing cold wind that greeted them couldn’t have been more appropriate. The skies opened up just as their cab pulled up to Colin’s building and they both got drenched trying to unload their luggage.

Penelope wheeled her luggage into her bedroom to unpack while Colin dumped his luggage in the corner of his bedroom and collapsed on his bed, choked with insecurity and feeling sorry for himself.

He fell into a restless sleep and woke up sometime in the night feeling disoriented and dehydrated. There were voices coming from the living room.

He rubbed at his eyes and staggered out of his bedroom to find DI Hardy speaking to Penelope.

They both looked up at his entrance and he realised Penelope was crying, tears running silently down her pale face.

“Pen? What is it? What’s happened?”

“Hello. Colin Bridgerton, isn’t it?” DI Hardy came forward to shake his hand. “We met at the Yard a few months ago.”

“Yes, I recall,” Colin said, impatiently. “Has something happened?”

“Ah, well, I’m afraid I’ve come by to deliver some grim news,” DI Hardy looked over at Penelope, as if asking permission to share the news with Colin. Penelope nodded her assent.

“We think we’ve found Archibald Featherington,” DI Hardy said. “Penelope’s going to need to come with me to identify the body.”

Chapter Text

When Eloise walked through her bedroom door, Penelope’s last vestiges of self-composure fell apart.

She’d held it together for the last couple of days, not allowing herself to think about anything except the funeral arrangements but Eloise’s arrival broke her brittle control. Tears were coursing down her cheeks before her best friend could rush the final few steps into the quiet room and throw her arms around Penelope. Through a blurry curtain of tears, Penelope saw Colin’s figure hovering by the door, watching them.

“You came,” she whispered.

“Of course I came,” Eloise whispered back. “You couldn’t keep me away if you tried.”

Penelope buried her face in her shoulder to breathe in her familiar scent: warm, woodsy, and tobacco.

Colin had picked Eloise up from the airport and brought her straight to the flat. It was just after 8 o’clock at night. Penelope looked up at him, standing in the doorway. He met her eyes and smiled. The patience and care in his gaze made her want to cry harder.

She focused on Eloise, asking through sniffles, “What about your coursework?”

“Screw it,” Eloise rasped, her own eyes wet. This reunion was far too weepy for either of their tastes, but there was no helping it. “Besides, I’ll be back in a few days. But enough about me, how are you holding up?”

“I’m…well. You know. I wish I could hurry up and get tomorrow over and done with.”

Her life had been a whirlwind of misery since receiving the news of her father’s death from DI Hardy. A haze of numbness surrounded Penelope, occasionally pierced by moments of pain that left her desolate. It was only Colin’s presence that kept her sane, lending a buffer to the pressures and demands of reality and her family’s grief.

One day at a time, he’d told her, when she’d broken down in his arms on the night of the DI’s visit. I’m here.

“Do you want some food, El?” he asked, pushing away from the doorframe and coming into the room.

“I could eat,” Eloise turned to Penelope. “Have you had dinner yet?”

Her stomach rebelled at the thought of food. She lied, “I had something earlier.”

“Eat with me. C’mon.”

She shook her head, avoiding their gazes, and felt rather than saw them exchange a look.

Colin insisted, “Mum sent over some shepherd’s pie. I’ll put it in the oven for you. Take it out in thirty minutes. I have to get back to Ambrosia, there’s a couple of things I need to do for tomorrow.”

Colin had insisted on the use of his restaurant for her father’s wake the following day. Portia had appreciated the offer, just like she was appreciative of everything Colin had done the past few days—booking a hotel room for her to stay in, attending all the meetings with the funeral director with Penelope, taking care of all the minor details so that when Portia arrived in London a few days ago, the funeral service was organised and paid for. All the Featheringtons needed to do was show up.

“Okay,” said Penelope, feeling that little ache in her chest whenever Colin left her side. He’d been a liferaft to her over the last few days—months, really—and she’d clung onto him without thinking twice.

Instead of walking away, he approached her and kissed her on the forehead. His hand cupped her cheek briefly, his touch tender. “Eat something. Try to get some sleep. You too, El.”

Then he was gone, leaving Penelope feeling deprived and somewhat flustered at Eloise’s direct, questioning gaze.

To her relief, though, Eloise only threw open her suitcase to pull out a fresh set of clothes and a toiletries bag so she could take a shower. Eloise’s chatter filled the room as she told Penelope about her flight home. Her presence and her familiar prattling was so dear that it made Penelope ache with how much she had missed her best friend.

After Eloise’s shower, she led Penelope into the dining area and set a healthy serving of shepherd’s pie in front of each of them. Eloise wolfed her food down, while Penelope forced herself to eat her own dish, barely able to taste the food in her mouth.

It was close to ten and they had an early start the next morning, so they retired to bed. Penelope was already in bed when Eloise returned to the bedroom after brushing her teeth and crawled under the covers just like they had done as girls during a sleepover. Their hands found each other under the covers and Penelope gave her friend’s hand a squeeze.

“Thank you,” Penelope whispered. “It means the world to me that you came.”

“Of course.”

There was silence and Penelope stared up at the ceiling, listening to Eloise’s breaths.

Then, Eloise suddenly sat up in bed and reached over to the bedside table and switched the lamp on.

“Okay, I was going to wait until later, but I’m no good at waiting. Colin and I talked on the drive over,” she said. “About more than just the funeral.”

Penelope’s heart did a quick somersault as she sat up slowly.

“He filled me in on some things I was wondering about.” Eloise’s words didn’t inspire anything but a sense of impending dread. Her face gave nothing away. “So, I have a question for you.”

What had Colin told her? That they were sleeping together? Was she upset? Penelope hand gripped the bed coverlet and forced herself to stay calm. “What is it?”

“When I move back, do you still want to get a flat with me?”

Penelope blinked, taken aback by the question. She’d expected Eloise to ask her about what she and Colin were doing. Was Eloise calling those plans off? Was she angry that Penelope had hidden her relationship with Colin for months?

“We already agreed,” she stuttered. “Didn’t we?”

“Things have changed,” Eloise said astutely.

She cast an eye around Penelope’s bedroom and Penelope followed her gaze. Her expensive laptop sitting on the desk, the orange boxes stacked against the wall. On top of those boxes was another small pile of pale pink boxes with Agent Provocateur stamped clearly on the lid. Penelope flushed pink with embarrassment, but Eloise didn’t say anything, only watched her patiently as she waited for an answer.

“I think you’d rather stay here,” Eloise mused. “Don’t you?”

Right. Colin had confessed to everything, then. In a way, Penelope was relieved she hadn’t had to take on that task herself.

“You’re not upset?” Penelope asked, hesitantly. “That we’re…”

Eloise met her flushed expression with a sardonic smile. “I was surprised, yeah. In hindsight, maybe not that surprised, but I’m not upset because I can see how he takes good care of you.” Eloise squeezed her hand, letting her know that she was earnest. “And I think you take good care of him, too.”

She hadn’t. Colin gave and gave and gave, and the one time he’d asked for something deeper, Penelope had brutally shot him down.

Her insides roiled whenever she thought of what she’d said to Colin in the heat of the moment, lashing out when she felt cornered by his questioning. It hadn’t been fair to him. She was well aware she’d treated him poorly, pushing him away in panic when he’d tried to get closer to her and share in her problems.

“I don’t think I have been,” she confessed. “I just feel like I’m being a burden to him.”

“Why?”

“All Colin’s been doing is giving. He’s so…kind, considerate. I just…I don’t think I’m good for him.”

I don’t think I’m good enough for him. She left that part unsaid because it was too painful to speak aloud, but Eloise seemed to hear it anyway.

“That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Eloise said bluntly. “If anything, you’re too good for my idiot brother.”

“I don’t think anybody else sees it the way you do.”

“Who cares what other people think? I’m the only one whose opinion matters. He’s my brother and you’re my best friend.”

“That’s exactly why you’re not to be trusted,” Penelope pointed out. “You’re biased.”

“I’m not biased. I’m on the outside, looking in, with an unmuddled view and a deep understanding of how both parties tick. You ought to trust me when I say you and Colin are good for each other, if you’d only let it happen.”

It felt like the world had spun on its axis and up was now down. Penelope couldn’t quite believe what Eloise was saying to her—that she was actually encouraging her to pursue a relationship with Colin.

“I know your family has its problems and you’ve got a chip on your shoulder because of it, but you deserve more. I wish you would trust him. Hell, I wish you would trust me.”

Penelope opened her mouth to deny Eloise’s statement, but Eloise wasn’t finished.

“I know it’s not easy,” She made a face that reeked of sympathy. “I completely understand where you’re coming from—it’s a long story and I’ll tell you everything later—but recently I’ve started to realise that the most important thing in a relationship is trust. You’ve got to trust that the other person—if they’re the right person—sees all your flaws and accepts them as a part of you.”

The years-long, repressed yet ever-present ache in Penelope’s chest throbbed, almost painfully. She stared at Eloise’s face, desperately wanting to believe in her words.

Trust.

Colin wanted her trust. He deserved her trust.

She wanted to give it to him, but fear held her back, again and again.

“I hate to say this, but my brother and I are more alike than we care to admit,” Eloise reached for Penelope’s hands, wrapping them in her own. “I love you, Penelope. Why wouldn’t he?”

She wanted to cry. She wanted to believe Eloise, but her heart was heavy and her father was dead and there was nothing she could do except hold herself tightly together and hope that she wouldn’t fall apart any more than she already had.

🎀 🎀 🎀

Morning came, dreary and overcast. A gloomy and fitting setting for the day of Archie Featherington’s funeral.

The casket was closed and Penelope tried her best not to think of how her dad had looked the last time she’d seen him—laid out on a cold, metal slab, his skin blue. He’d been shot in the back of the head and left in the freezer of a gangster, so his body was surprisingly well preserved.

Penelope sat in silence between her sisters as the funeral procession made its way towards the cemetery from Hanover Square. Their mother stared at the misty road ahead from the front passenger seat, her face pale and drawn. Like Penelope, she’d spent all her tears over the past week and had nothing left to shed.

Philippa and Prudence were quiet, too. Penelope couldn’t remember a single time in her life where their entire family sat together in one space without chattering and snipping and prodding at one another. Another way in which the day proved to be unnatural…unreal.

Then Prudence broke the surreal silence that didn’t belong to the Featheringtons, speaking almost timidly, “Harry and I were thinking we might push back the wedding—”

“You’ll do no such thing,” their mother said from the front seat without breaking her gaze on the grey skyline through the window. “Your father wouldn’t want you to.”

It was difficult for Penelope to decide whether or not this was true. Even while alive, she hadn’t really understood her father. He’d kept secrets and led them down a path of financial ruin, all the while maintaining a benign front. If someone had asked if she thought her father was capable of such perfidy, she would have said no. At least, at the beginning, when the debts hadn’t snowballed yet and she was still living in the naïve belief that she could patch up the leaky spots with enough perseverance.

Now? When he was laying cold in a hearse? No one could know what he wanted ever again.

He should have protected them. He was their father. He’d done the opposite, instead. Penelope tamped down the miserable, pointless rage that filled her.

He’d abandoned them. He always did.

But now he was dead and she had to let it go.

She hadn’t realised that she was trembling until Philippa reached out and clasped Penelope’s hand. A few minutes later, Prudence did the same. Penelope didn’t withdraw or try to pull away. A faint, faraway memory of a childhood moment like this fluttered in her mind—Penelope remembered being very young and very afraid, reaching out for her older sisters’ hands in the dark and finding relief in their touch. An echo of that feeling came back to her and suddenly she was glad she wasn’t alone, they were all here together, in this dark little car.

“It’s nearly a month away,” Portia said, bringing Penelope back to the present. She sounded gentler as she spoke, reassuring Prudence: “More than enough time for mourning. No one will blame you. There’s no need to delay it.”

“Yeah,” Philippa said, trying to sound supportive.

“Yeah,” echoed Penelope.

Prudence nodded, but she still seemed troubled.

“Your father may be gone, but we still have each other,” Portia continued, turning to look at her daughters.

They arrived shortly after and all thoughts of the wedding were waylaid by the procession pouring into the car park.

Penelope hadn’t expected many people to show up. Her father hadn’t been a popular man and, by the end of his life, most of his peers had held him in contempt or derision. But the turnout was even smaller than she’d imagined: only Harry Dankworth and his family, Albion and some of his and Philippa’s friends, a few members of their extended family, and one or two old chums who either hadn’t lent him money or didn’t care that he’d died without paying them back.

However, the Bridgertons were present.

All of them, including Daphne’s little ones. To Penelope’s surprise, she saw Agatha Danbury standing next to Marcus Anderson. A line of sombre, well dressed figures draped in black, making a point of showing their solidarity and support. Portia looked both taken aback and grateful, accepting an embrace from Violet Bridgerton as well as her condolences. Philippa smiled at Colin when he approached Penelope and Prudence looked at him askance, her expression strange, as if she’d never seen him clearly before.

Eloise joined him and they stood behind Penelope throughout the ceremony. Her trembling eased, comforted by their presence, by the way her sisters held her hands once again. The painful knot in her chest began to unfurl as the Reverend recited prayer over her father’s body.

We now commit his body to the ground…

Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

She tried to find some peace in the knowledge that her father had come back to them, despite his mistakes, to his final resting place.

It took all of her strength and force of will to step up to the casket. Her fingers released a handful of dirt over it, the tiny clumps scattering across the lacquered wood.

Her sisters did the same, returning quietly to their spouses afterwards.

Portia’s lips moved softly as she took her turn, murmuring a final sentence to her dead husband—perhaps offering forgiveness or condemnation or simply a goodbye.

Amen.

Then he was lowered into the ground.

It was over. There was a measure of relief in that, she discovered. People surrounded her—the Bridgertons, her cousins—and she was hugged and comforted until her mother nodded at her, indicating that they would proceed to the arrangements for the wake.

Colin took her hand in his. He led her back to the car—his car—and settled her in the passenger seat.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, kissing her temple after he’d buckled her seatbelt for her. Her hands were still trembling, so she was glad he’d done it.

“I’m alright,” she answered. “A little cold.”

Her heart squeezed as he wrapped his palm around her nape and stroked the skin there. He was freshly shaven and looked striking in his black suit. There was nothing but kindness in his eyes and Penelope felt an ache, wondering if she truly deserved such devotion and care.

He’d gone with her to identify her dad’s body. She barely remembered what had happened next. She’d sat in on an interview with DI Hardy. She’d filled in forms. Then, when she’d been allowed to leave, Colin had been there in the waiting room and he’d held her while she broke down in tears.

That was only the beginning. She’d never anticipated how much planning went into planning a funeral. He’d gone with her to every meeting with the funeral director, helped her fill in forms and choose the casket when she got overwhelmed by the choices.

At night, she had dreams of being trapped in a freezer, and she’d wake with a gasp, shuddering and gasping for breath. She was so exhausted with grief she didn’t want to eat, she could barely manage to speak full sentences, but Colin had only doubled down on taking care of her.

She’d survived the most harrowing week of her life thanks to him.

Eloise’s words replayed themselves in her head: He takes good care of you.

There was no doubt she was right.

“Thank you,” Penelope whispered.

He pressed another kiss to her forehead in lieu of a reply. His warm palm cupped her cheek and, before she knew what she was doing, she reached for him, pulling him down to meet her lips in a soft kiss.

“Pen,” he murmured, letting her have her way. The taste of his mouth was a comfort she hadn’t realised she’d been missing so ardently. It felt like years had gone by since she’d kissed him last.

Desperation welled up inside her. She couldn’t give up Colin. She couldn’t. She wanted and loved him more than she could put into words and the thought of losing him scared her witless.

I think you take good care of him, too.

She’d do her best from now on.

The sound of steps approaching the car and the side door being opened roused them from their kiss. Colin pulled back, looking over his shoulder.

Eloise climbed into the back seat, clearing her throat.

“Ready?” Colin asked, unperturbed by having been caught kissing in the driver’s seat by his sister.

“Ready,” Penelope affirmed. Colin squeezed her hand before setting off towards Ambrosia.

The wake was a sombre affair. A few more people showed up, including DI Hardy, who came to pay his respects. Penelope felt her stomach twist with dread at the sight of him—a kind of pavlovian response—despite the fact that the worst had already happened. There wasn’t much more bad news he could bring, was there?

She thanked him for his efforts and left her mother to speak to him, seeking Colin out almost desperately. Her throat felt choked and she couldn’t breathe until she caught sight of him, standing by Violet.

“Pen,” he said, coming to her at once. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” she murmured, as he circled his arms around her. She pressed her face into his lapel and closed her eyes. The image of her father’s cold, lifeless body on the coroner's table was forever engraved into her psyche.

🎀 🎀 🎀

Penelope didn’t sleep until dawn broke and didn’t wake until afternoon sunlight streamed into the flat. She lay in bed, listless, until her phone began to vibrate and buzz.

It wasn’t Colin or Eloise, but her mother calling to inform her she was coming over to visit.

Penelope dragged herself out of bed to make herself presentable. She brushed her teeth and changed into comfortable clothes that Portia would eye in disfavour and call lazy. She found it difficult to summon enough energy to care.

Surprisingly, when Portia walked through the lift doors, she greeted Penelope with a hug. “Hello, darling. You look tired.”

Penelope shrugged. “It was a long day.”

They sat down on the sofa and Portia surprised her again by not bringing up the funeral. Instead, she said, “Penelope, Agatha Danbury was telling me yesterday how well you have been doing at work. You got a promotion recently.”

Portia didn’t say that Penelope had neglected to inform her of the news, nor did she try to guilt Penelope for not telling her the news.

Penelope nodded, suddenly unsure of how to respond. Her mother so rarely praised her, but perhaps things would be different now that her father was dead.

We still have each other.

“I…yes. I did. Junior writer.”

“Well, I’m happy for you. You work hard, it’s time you got recognised for it.”

She mustered up a small smile. “Thank you, Mum.”

Portia returned her smile and reached into her purse to withdraw a white envelope. She handed it to Penelope.

“I wanted to pass this cheque to Colin. For the funeral expenses. It was very kind for him to pay in advance.”

A cheque? Penelope looked at the envelope in surprise. “Mum, where did you get this money?”

Portia replied, “Your father’s life insurance policy.”

“Oh.”

Of course. She’d forgotten about Archie’s generous life insurance policy. It was enough money to see her mother taken care of for the foreseeable future.

“Another reason I wanted to come and see you. I’m going to use some of the money to buy a flat here in London. I want you to come and live with me.”

Penelope blinked. “Oh. Well. I don’t know, Mum.” She added quickly, “Eloise will be back soon and we were talking about getting a flat together.”

Portia breathed out, her nostrils flaring in the way that signified she was displeased. She stared at Penelope with a familiar expression of disappointment, one she’d often worn.

So much for change.

Her tone was blunt and she didn’t beat around the bush. Portia never did when it came to berating her daughter. “Penelope, you cannot afford a flat on your salary, even if you share. What is the plan, that Eloise will buy a flat and rent a room to you at a below market rate? I don’t want you to live off the Bridgertons’ charity forever. Why do so, when your family can support you now?”

Every word had Penelope’s stomach sinking further.

“I…I’ll think about it, Mum. Hang on. Let me check on the kettle.”

Exasperated, Portia watched Penelope find the flimsiest excuse to exit the conversation and buy herself time to think.

Live with her mum? A cold sweat broke out across the back of her neck. Just the thought alone was unbearable.

With shaking hands, Penelope made tea, taking far longer than she needed to. She took a deep breath. She’d figure out some way to avoid moving back in with Portia—find some kind of believable excuse—but first she had to get her mother out of the flat so she could think things through.

Penelope returned to the living room, carrying the two mugs of steaming tea. Her mother was nowhere to be seen, but when she peered down the hallway, she noticed the door to her bedroom was ajar.

“Mum?”

She set the mugs onto the living room table and made her way to her room.

Portia stood inside, a few paces from her bed. A pang of indignation passed through her—she wasn’t a child and they weren’t under Portia’s roof. She resented being thrust back into the adolescent agony of having her mother invade her personal space.

“What is all this, Penelope?” Portia asked, in a strangely flat tone.

Portia’s gaze trailed across the Chanel dustbag, Hermès boxes, and the jars of La Mer cream on her vanity. The expensive laptop Colin had purchased for her lay open on her bedside table. Silk pyjamas hung over the back of a chair, next to a discarded lace bralette.

Oh, bloody hell.

“I…”

Portia swung her head around to give Penelope a hard, scrutinising stare. “Is this why you don’t want to live with me? You’d rather live here and be Colin Bridgerton’s bit on the side?”

The words hurt. They made her feel as though what she and Colin shared was cheap or tawdry when nothing could be further than the truth.

“Mum—it’s not like that.”

“Oh? Isn’t it? Then what is it?” Her mother pointed at the lingerie, making Penelope flush. “You’re sleeping with him, aren’t you? Don’t try and deny it, Penelope Anne.”

“I’m not denying—it’s just not what you think, Mum.”

“What am I supposed to think?” Portia demanded. “Did I miss the announcement about you two being an item now?”

“No, but—” Penelope floundered for a moment before she said firmly, ‘What’s going on between me and Colin is private.”

“Oh,” Portia laughed, humourlessly. “I’m sure it is. I’m sure that arrangement suits him perfectly.”

Penelope knew what Portia was thinking. She knew of her mother’s disdain for men. Penelope did not blame her mother, she even felt empathy for the cards that Portia had been dealt in life. She tried to imagine what her and Colin’s relationship must look like through her mother’s eyes and she couldn’t bear the thought that Portia would think so poorly of Colin.

“That’s not fair, you’ve got it wrong—”

Portia cut her off, lifting a hand to her temple and massaging it. “This is exactly why I hated letting you go away with the Bridgertons on those holidays. But how could I say no? I would have been a villain in your eyes, Penelope, when all I have ever wanted was to protect you girls!”

Protect her? Penelope stared at her mum in disbelief. Protect her from the Bridgertons?

From Colin?

Colin, who had never done a single bad thing to Penelope. Colin, who had dropped everything to support her in her grief while she fell apart these last few days…Penelope felt a trembling rage surge up inside her.

She was incensed with Portia for implying Colin would ever treat her poorly. She was not the same person that had allowed her mother to berate her in a police station. She had spent the past few months being delicately cared for by a man who treasured her. A person changed after being treated with such tenderness. It was one thing for Penelope to be eaten up with fear and uncertainty about her future with Colin, but it was another thing for Portia to denigrate Colin’s character in her presence.

Her spine straightened and she looked Portia dead in the eyes as she said in a low, furious voice, “I’ve never needed your protection. All my life, the only person I needed protection from was you!”

Portia looked as though Penelope had slapped her on the face.

“I see. Is that how you see things? You think I’m the monster? And Colin Bridgerton is, what? Your hero?” Portia flung the words at her, deliberately cutting. “What has he promised you? Except some handbags and a holiday to Indonesia? Has he told you he loves you?”

Penelope replied, between clenched teeth, “No, but he doesn’t have to. I know Colin cares for me.”

Portia’s mouth twisted in dismay. “Oh, Penelope. I raised you to be smarter than this. A man like Colin Bridgerton will never marry a girl like you.”

It took all of her inner strength to respond civilly, “What does marriage have to do with anything?”

Her mother knew how to wield the knife, knew exactly where her greatest weaknesses were. To Penelope’s despair, she even believed she was doing her daughter a favour.

“He’s using you because you’re convenient.” Stab. “What are you going to do when he ends things with you? Because he will.” Stab. “You think you’ll be able to move on, Penelope? Do you think you’ll be able to put yourself back together?” Stab. She was bloody all over, rooted to the spot, anger and humiliation and pain preventing her from being able to speak back to her mother. “You have wasted more than half your life mooning over that boy. When are you going to wake up? Girls like you—”

“Excuse me.” A voice cut into the room, releasing her from her frozen rage. It was just as cold and brittle as she felt. Penelope’s stomach lurched sickeningly.

“Colin—!”

Chapter Text

Colin’s blood was roaring in his ears.

Portia cleared her throat. “I beg your pardon, Colin. We didn’t hear you returning home.”

He barely held back the urge to shout in her face, reminding himself that this was a woman who had just buried her husband the day before. He tried to control his tone, but it still came out hard and acerbic. “Clearly. You were too busy attacking my character and insulting Penelope.”

“I was merely having a conversation with my daughter. I didn’t mean for you to overhear. If you’d made your presence known—”

Colin ignored the blatant dig at his eavesdropping. “This is my home.”

Portia did not flinch at the sharpness in his tone, but her face tightened at the reminder that she was on his territory.

“And Penelope is my daughter. I have the right to be concerned for her wellbeing, even if she is living in your home right now.”

He shouldn’t, he knew he shouldn’t—this was Penelope’s mother, after all—but he was bloody sick of her shit and the look on Penelope’s face was heartbreaking. He couldn’t stand the thought that she would believe the idiocy her mother was spewing. He was pissed that Portia even thought she had any right to intrude on their relationship.

“You certainly have a funny way of showing your concern,” Colin said flatly. “And for the record, Portia,” He met her eyes, square on. “I do love Penelope. I’ve loved her longer than I’ve known. I love her because loving your daughter is as easy and natural as breathing.”

Neither Penelope or Portia spoke, but he felt Penelope hitch a breath next to him.

“If you weren’t so blind, you’d see what an incredible person Penelope is.” Colin reached for Penelope’s hand, gripping it. “She’s brave, loyal, funny, brilliant. She is the best thing to have ever happened to me. I’ve done nothing in my life to make me worthy of a woman like your daughter, but—if she’d say yes to me—I would marry her tomorrow.”

He looked down into Penelope’s stunned face, hoping she could see that everything he said was true. “If she said no, then I’d spend the rest of my life waiting for her to change her mind.”

There was silence in the flat.

Portia seemed to be at a loss for words. Colin glared at her, daring her to refute his declaration. His heart was racing in his chest like he’d just run a marathon.

“I see,” said Portia, after a lengthy, heavy pause.

“I have some things I have to say to Penelope now,” he said curtly. “If you’d kindly see yourself out.”

Portia’s lips tightened, but she acquiesced, darting a glance at Penelope as she gathered her handbag. When Penelope refused to make eye contact with her, Colin saw that the realisation—that she had overstepped—had finally dawned on Portia—being Penelope’s mother didn’t mean she could get away with insulting them or their relationship.

He watched Portia make her way to the door. Just before she departed, she turned and handed him an envelope.

“This is for you, Colin. I—” He frowned as her hand went to her throat, as though she had to force the words out. “I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for us. For Penelope.”

He took the envelope, but didn’t acknowledge the reconciliatory words. It wasn’t an apology and he would accept nothing less.

Portia hesitated at the threshold of the bedroom, her gaze on Penelope. She seemed to want to say something, but decided against it. Her eyes flicked towards Colin once more, as if taking his measure, her expression unreadable. Whatever she saw seemed to push her into leaving.

As soon as the lift doors shut behind Portia, Penelope sat down onto the bed. She gazed up at him, eyes wide and her expression astonished. He kneeled on the carpet in front of her and took both her smaller hands into his.

“Colin…” she began, but then she trailed off. She continued to stare at him, lost for words.

That insecure part of him wondered if he’d overstepped. He’d tried to keep his feelings to himself, tried not to burden her with his feelings while she was grieving, but Portia’s words had lit a fire in him. He refused to let Penelope believe her mother’s poison for one second longer than she needed to.

“That wasn’t how I wanted to tell you, Pen,” Colin squeezed her hands gently. “I kept waiting for the perfect moment. But maybe there’s never going to be a perfect moment. I wanted to tell you on the night of the soft opening, but that night went completely off the rails. I kept waiting for the right moment in Bali, but it never came. And now is hardly the right time, what with your dad’s passing. But maybe that’s all life is, you know? Chaos and madness, disaster and tragedy, but in between all that shit, you get a handful of good and happy moments. And every moment I get to spend with you is a perfect moment. I know I’m a mess. My job’s a nightmare, I have no personal life to speak of. I don’t have much to offer you—”

“Colin—” Penelope tried to interrupt, but Colin wouldn’t let her. He had to get these words out or else it would kill him.

“But it won’t always be like this. I’m going to make real changes. I want a real life with you. I want to be here in the evenings when you come home, I want weekends with you. And maybe you don’t want that. I’d understand if you don’t feel the same way right now, but—”

“Colin!” Penelope cried, finally cutting through his spiralling monologue. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m trying to tell you I want to be with you,” Colin said, earnestly. “I want everything with you. Because I love you, Penelope.”

To his dismay, her eyes filled with tears and spilled down her cheeks. Not exactly the reaction a man wanted when he confessed his love to the love of his life. But then, in a small trembling voice, she asked him, “Are you sure?”

His heart nearly broke.

He stared at her, steadily, and nodded.

Her lower lip trembled and she wiped at her cheeks. She pulled at his arms, urging him to sit beside her on the bed. “Colin, I—I have to tell you something.”

Colin kept her hands cradled in his own, “You can tell me anything, Pen.”

She took a deep breath of courage. “My dad…my dad was murdered, Colin. He was selling drugs to feed his gambling habit. He stole from a gangster and they killed him.”

Her eyes searched his face, but he only said, “I’m so sorry, Pen.”

“DI Hardy said that there’s going to be a trial,” she said, looking tired and exhausted by the prospect. “Maybe six months from now. It’ll be all over the newspapers. Everyone’s going to know and…I don’t—I think that would be embarrassing for you.”

Colin frowned. “Embarrassing for me? What do you mean?”

“I don’t—it would be embarrassing for you, wouldn’t it? For everyone to know your girlfriend’s dad was a drug dealer?”

“I don’t give a fuck what people think,” Colin said fiercely. “Pen, do you really think I would be ashamed of you for something your dad did?”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you were,” Penelope said quietly. “I am ashamed. I’m so bloody angry at my father. I’m embarrassed of my family. Of myself. It makes me feel like I’ll never be good enough for you.”

Colin could barely bring himself to believe someone as sweet and perfect as Penelope could doubt herself, but Portia Featherington’s cruel words were still ringing in his ears.

A man like Colin Bridgerton will never marry a girl like you.

He forced himself to tamp down on the outrage that rose up inside him. No wonder Penelope doubted his feelings when her own mother spent her time filling her ear with hurtful lies. But Portia was another problem for another day.

“I already knew about your dad,” Colin said simply. “There were rumours flying around. Fife told me at the soft opening.”

“Oh,” Her eyes filled with tears once more.

“Don’t cry,” Colin gathered her tenderly into his arms. “I don’t care what your dad did, Pen. I just hate what he’s put you through.”

He swiped at a trailing tear with his thumb. “I should have spent more time with you instead of always rushing off to put out fires. It killed me, not being able to spend time with you properly. Not being able to take you out on proper dates and show you and the whole world what you mean to me. What your mother said, about my using you—”

“You weren’t using me, you were taking care of me,” Penelope said fiercely. “Don’t let her words get to you. She doesn’t know you like I do. I know your heart, Colin Bridgerton. You are a very good man. The best man I know.”

He looked into her beloved face, eyes blazing with powerful emotion and something warm and hopeful rose up inside him.

Colin let out a small huff of amusement as she looked at him quizzically.

“It just struck me how neither of us see ourselves clearly at all,” he explained. “But somehow we manage to always see the very best in each other. In your eyes, I am the best version of myself, Pen. I so badly want to be that man. I want to be worthy of you.”

“You already are, Colin,” she said, softly. “In every room you walk into, you are the kindest man. The most caring. You don’t have to prove anything to me. I’m yours. I’ve always been yours.”

The words didn’t make sense, they sounded like something from a dream his Penelope-starved brain had conjured up.

“Always?” He repeated dumbly.

“Since the moment we met. I’ve always loved you, Colin.”

The implication of her words floored him. Devastated him. He stared down at her, his chest tight and hot and overwhelmed by a feeling that could only be described as exhilaration.

Penelope loved him?

She pressed herself to his front, their bodies aligning perfectly. Her head tipped back and the look in her eyes made him feel like he would melt. Colin wrapped his arms around her and met her gaze.

“Do you mean it?” he demanded, his voice husky with emotion. “Tell me.”

“I do,” she said. “I—” Her voice got thick with sweetly choked emotion. “I never thought you’d see me as anything more than your friend. All these years, I’ve tried to be content with just being your friend. And I was content, but…”

“But what?” Colin rasped, desperate for her to continue, for her to keep telling his famished heart everything.

“But when I came to stay with you, it got so hard to keep my feelings in check. You make it so easy to love you, Colin. The way you take care of me. The way you touch me. The way you kiss me.”

He couldn’t resist it, he kissed her, drawing deep lungfuls of her scent. “Like that?”

“Yes,” she panted. He lunged for her again, taking her mouth in a deep and demanding kiss that left them gasping for air.

“What else?” Colin begged, pressing his forehead against hers. “What else do you love?”

“When you make love to me,” she whispered against his lips, breaking the kiss. She laid her hand on his chest, as if to feel his heartbeat. Heat bloomed where she touched him, like it always did. “When you’re so deep inside me that I can’t tell where you end and I begin.”

Colin had done his best to give her space, to not be too needy, to put her first. But he was desperate for her now, desperate to be as close to her as two people could be. He took her mouth again, sweeping her up and tossing her onto the bed with abandon. Penelope gasped, but she clung to him and, when he kissed not just her mouth but down the side of her neck and between her breasts, she said breathlessly, “I love it when you kiss my breasts—”

Colin obliged, tugging her shirt and bralette up to bare her breasts to the cool air of the room. He kissed each pouty nipple in greeting.

“What else do you love, Pen?” he asked, flicking her nipple with his thumb. Gooseflesh broke out around her areola, flushed as prettily pink as her cheeks.

“When you suck—” her voice broke off as Colin sucked the tip of one breast into his mouth, then the other. He licked her sweet nipples, savouring the taste of them while she gasped beneath him, her hands diving into his hair. “I love that.”

He spent a good, long while suckling her nipples, until Penelope tugged on his hair to get his attention. He raised his head, saw her glazed expression, and felt his cock throb painfully. He surged up to kiss her again, desperate for another taste of her mouth.

“Colin,” she panted, as his hand trailed down her stomach and past the waistband of her leggings and knickers. He found her slick and hot as always, her pussy wet enough for his fingers to slip in with almost no resistance.

He kept his eyes on her face, closely monitoring every minute expression and emotion that crossed her features—making sure she felt as connected as he did. Colin’s heart did a painful little skip at the memory of the last time they’d slept together, in Bali. He never wanted to feel that way ever again. Not with Penelope. He wanted to make sure there was not even a single millimetre of distance between them when they were in bed together, loving each other.

“I want you on top,” he confessed, pressing his forehead to hers. “Is that okay?”

“Yes,” she said breathlessly. “Whatever you want. I love everything you do to me.”

He dragged her leggings down as she divested herself of her rumpled top. Colin tore off his shirt and jeans and rolled Penelope over. She settled on his bare lap, her legs spread across his thighs. Her hands went straight to his standing cock, fingers wrapping around it.

Colin delighted in her dazed, hungry expression. Penelope was never demanding or vocal in bed, but things were different this time, as if her confession had released her. She couldn’t seem to stop herself from praising him, telling him all the ways she loved him. It was heady and intense and Colin wondered if he would survive making love to this unapologetically uninhibited Penelope or whether he would simply burn into a pile of ashes.

Penelope leaned forward, giving his cock a smooth, quick stroke with her hand. “I love your cock. It’s gorgeous.”

He sucked in a harsh breath as Penelope continued her ministrations. Colin wanted to correct her and tell her she was gorgeous, but all he could manage was to exhale shakily as he ran his hands along her soft thighs.

She worked him with both hands, swirling her thumb over the tip of his cock on each upstroke. “You’re so velvety soft…and so hard…so thick. You’re the biggest I’ve ever had. My pussy always aches after you fuck me, did you know that?”

Unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of her hands around his cock, Colin whimpered her name. He released the tight grip he had on her thighs to palm her heavy breasts. Penelope arched into his hands, sighing as he pinched her nipples. She tilted her hips, shifting forwards until the wet seam of her pussy met the base of his cock.

Fuck.

Colin’s hips bucked instinctively, eager for the hot clasp of Penelope’s body. She rocked against him, letting him feel just how wet she was.

Colin groaned and then let one of his hands drop from her breast to land between her legs, seeking out her sensitive clit. He traced circles over the little bud, using the exact amount of pressure he knew she liked. His thumb pressed down on her clit as he thrust two fingers into her pussy, earning himself a delicious little moan of pleasure.

“Oh! Oh, yes. Yes, Colin, I love how you do that,” Penelope moaned. She leaned down and gave him a hot, lingering kiss. He swept his tongue into her mouth, thrusting in tandem with his fingers.

“Grip the headboard,” he managed to get out in between kisses. Penelope obliged, reaching to grab the headboard above Colin’s shoulders while his hands settled back on her hips, testing his grip on the soft flesh there. He notched himself between her slick folds and she slid down onto his cock. They both groaned simultaneously and the molten heat that swallowed him up was almost too much to bear. Penelope rose on her haunches and began to ride him, her eyes locked on his.

“You feel amazing inside me,” she said, lowering her hands from the headboard to his shoulders. Her nails dragged along his chest, drawing lines of heat across his torso. “You fill me up so good, Colin…it feels so good.”

The fire blazing in her eyes consumed him, every word licking at his insides.

Colin stared up at her in heavy-lidded awe. She was a goddess, undulating on his lap, sheathing him in pleasure and love and an intimacy that was beyond words.

Being inside of her wasn’t enough—he needed to be even closer. Colin wrapped a hand around her neck and sat half-up to kiss her. Her eyes fell shut, lost in the moment.

“I love you,” she said against his lips, her pussy fluttering around his cock as if to confirm her words.

“I know,” he breathed, a brilliant smile bubbling out of his chest. Because of course Penelope loved him. Her love had been there all this time—in every embrace, caress, every gesture. He had been too blind, too wrapped up in his self-doubt to see it. But he could see it now—it was right there; so bright and blazing, it should have blinded him.

“I love you, Penelope,” Colin grunted as the grinding of her hips sped up.

“Oh, Colin, I love you. I love you so much. You fuck me so well,” she cried in praise—even though, technically, she was fucking him right now. Her sweet cunt clenched on each downstroke, as if it never wanted to let him go. “I love the way you fuck me. Yes, yes, just…just like that. Oh! Oh, fuck, right there. Don’t stop, don’t stop—”

She screamed as her orgasm hit, her hands grasped at his shoulders, as she rode the wave of her climax. Colin grabbed her hips hard enough to bruise when she tightened around him and it all hit him like a speeding truck. He thrust himself as deep into her clenching, fluttering cunt as he could manage and he came harder than he’d ever come before.

Penelope collapsed against him and they lay in a tangle of limbs, panting and kissing until their heartbeats grew calm again.

“Is it official now?” Colin asked as he pushed strands of her red hair from her sweaty face and tucked them behind her ear. “Are you my girlfriend?”

Penelope giggled breathlessly, “Yes, it’s official.” She pressed a kiss to his chest as if to seal the deal.

“Will you move into my bedroom? Tonight?”

“If you want.”

“I do want. I want half of my closet to be yours. I want your face creams and lotions and your hair-ties everywhere in my bathroom. I want your life to be so entangled with mine that if you ever get sick of me and decide to leave me, the thought of having to untangle and separate everything again makes you give up and just stay with me.”

“You’ll never have to worry about that,” Penelope said, softly. She traced the shape of his mouth with her finger. “You’re the only man I’ve ever loved. The only man I will ever love.”

A part of Colin feared this was all just a dream, too good to be true. He swallowed the lump in his throat and said, “You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved, too.” And it was true.

As he softened, Penelope made an unhappy sound when she felt his cock slip from her body. She sighed. “If I had my way, I’d keep you in this bed for a week straight.”

“I’m going to clear my schedule to make that happen.”

She laughed.

“I’m serious. Give me two weeks and then I’m all yours.”

“What? What do you mean?”

He leaned in and brushed a kiss on her cheek. “I’m selling my shares to Stanton.”

Penelope blinked. “What?”

“For Contessa. Anthony bought out Fife and eventually he’ll sell to Wilding, so Stanton and Wilding will be the two main shareholders.”

“When did you decide?”

“In Bali,” he answered, truthfully. He reached for her hand and toyed with her fingers against his chest, stroking them with his own. “Talking to Kingsley made me realise how far I’d strayed from my original goal. I didn’t have grand plans. I wanted to open a restaurant to share good food with people. I wanted my restaurant to be a welcoming place for friends and family to gather. That’s all. What’s the point of opening restaurant after restaurant and having no personal life?”

“What about Ambrosia?”

“I’m handing over the reins to Dunwoody and Rae. They’re more than capable of running it day-to-day.” He looked down at their intertwined fingers and confessed, “I don’t think I can give up Ambrosia. Not completely.”

Penelope smiled softly, and said, “Why should you? She’s yours.”

“Like you?”

Her smile grew wider. “Like me.”

He thought the feeling of contentment in his chest—the love and affection and anticipation, too—couldn’t get any larger.

“I’m sorry about my mum,” Penelope said, after a pause.

“She was way over the line,” Colin said, bundling her closer to him. “Nobody speaks to you like that. I won’t allow it.”

“You were magnificent,” Penelope said in a dreamy voice, her praise made his chest swell. “I don’t think anyone has ever spoken to her like that.”

“Good,” Colin said forcefully. “She’ll think twice the next time she tries to give you her opinion on our relationship.”

Penelope sighed, “I’ll have to call her. Maybe the day after tomorrow. Let the dust settle first.”

“You don’t have to,” Colin said gently. “She was the one who was acting horribly, you shouldn’t have to be the one to extend an olive branch.”

“I know, but Prudence’s wedding is coming up. I don’t want us to be on bad terms,” she said, tracing a circle on his chest. She paused before looking up at his face through her silky lashes and said, “Speaking of Pru’s wedding…”

“Yes?” he prompted.

“You’ve probably had enough of my family,” Penelope went on, grimacing slightly. “But…I can’t skip out on it, obviously…and I need a plus-one…”

He kissed the doubtful expression off her face and grinned. “I thought you’d never ask.”

🎀 🎀 🎀

Three and a half weeks later, Prudence Featherington married Harry Dankworth on a chilly day in December. Their reception was held in the Pompadour Ballroom at the Hotel Café Royal. The Louis XVI style room—with its mirrored panels and a ceiling boasting of murals of lovers in gilded frames—was in keeping with the classical Featherington flair. That is, extravagant and garish.

The room was filled to capacity with a mix of Featherington redheads and Harry Dankworth’s extended family who had travelled to London from all over the world to attend this wedding.

Colin had spent the week bracing himself for the event. It had taken longer than the two weeks he had promised Penelope to wrap up all his loose ends but earlier that day, he had finally signed the papers transferring his share of Contessa to Stanton.

Rae and Dunwoody had taken up their new roles in Ambrosia with an enthusiasm and competency that had set Colin at ease.

All he had to get through was this wedding and then he’d have Penelope all to himself for the entire weekend ahead.

He found himself making notes in his head throughout the wedding: he liked the boisterous and festive atmosphere of a big wedding but he suspected Penelope would prefer something more intimate. The flower arrangments weren’t to his taste, too lurid and…orange, and then there was the issue of the food. He couldn't believe it when he’d seen coronation chicken on the menu, he’d blinked and then looked around to see if he was being pranked.

No. That wouldn’t do at all.

The food and the flowers aside, the wedding was surprisingly fun. Harry’s relatives were a cheerful and excitable bunch. The bride and groom had gone around to every table for a Yam Seng toast, so Colin was intermittently deafened by the exuberant voices of people toasting the newlyweds at the top of their lungs.

Colin was sat next to Penelope’s very affable brother-in-law, Albion Finch, who knew more about cheese than any person he’d ever encountered. Colin was more than content to spend the night listening to him talk about his and Philippa’s upcoming tour of the prominent cheese regions in France.

And then there was dancing.

First, Harry and his groomsmen had performed a dance to One Direction’s, ‘You Don’t Know You’re Beautiful’ to the raucous cheers of the room.

After that, Colin had watched with rapt attention as Prudence, who had changed out of her frothy wedding cake of a dress into her green, sequined evening gown, spun around on the dancefloor with her besotted new husband. They were performing a highly choreographed dance routine to a medley of Bruno Mars songs and the effect was…well, kind of mesmerising, honestly.

In fact, Colin thought this was probably the best thing to happen all night. He whispered to Penelope under his breath, “Do you think I could convince Anthony and Benedict to do a choreographed dance number with me at our wedding?”

Penelope smothered a giggle. Colin turned his head to see her eyes twinkling up at him over her champagne flute. “If you do, I call dibs on picking the song.”

He smiled at her, his heart fluttered in his chest at how she hadn’t contradicted him when he mentioned “our wedding.” They’d talked about plans for their future, places Colin wanted to visit with her, marriage, children. Penelope told him she wanted to wait and focus on her career and asked him to hold off for a few years. Colin had agreed but that didn’t stop him from day-dreaming about Penelope in a white dress and a glittering ring on her finger.

“I wouldn’t dream of letting anyone else pick the song,” he replied gallantly. “What d’you reckon? Destiny’s Child? N’Sync? Vengaboys?”

Penelope giggled again, just as the musical number came to an end with Harry lifting Prudence up (rather shakily), the two of them beaming into the distance. Colin guessed the dance number had been professionally recorded by the photographer and would be uploaded to TikTok before the reception ended. The ballroom erupted into astonished applause, led by some enthusiastic catcalling from Albion.

Albion reached over and gave Colin a jolly pat on the shoulder, crowing, “If only I’d thought of this for my wedding!”

Colin thought Albion was perhaps a little bit drunk. Before he could respond that he was certainly taking notes, Portia Featherington stood up and hastily lifted her champagne flute, tapping on it with a fork hard enough that he was momentarily convinced she would shatter it.

The laughter and chatter took some time to die down. Prudence blew kisses to the crowd and had to be dragged back to her seat by her new husband so that Portia could make her toast.

“Thank you,” Portia said, graciously. She smoothed a hand over the bodice of her overly ruched gown and smiled around at the guests.

She thanked Harry and his parents for welcoming her daughter to their family with open arms. She told them how much it had meant to her that they had been there for Prudence these past few months when she hadn't been able to stay in London for her girls. Her voice was steady and the speech came out polished and smooth but Colin could feel the sincerity and gratitude in every word.

“Ever since my girls were born, I have spent every second of every day worried about how I would protect them from this world. I have only ever wanted each of my girls to do better than I did. And I’m so proud to say that they have. As a mother, there’s nothing more comforting to know they will have a good man standing by their side to support and love them.”

Portia glanced at a teary-eyed Harry, and for a brief moment Colin felt her gaze touch on him. He recognized the olive branch and lifted his champagne glass in acceptance. Their relationship would never be more than lukewarm at best, because he would never truly be able to forgive her for what she’d said to Penelope, but he could muster up the required cordiality when occasion demanded.

“To my new son,” she said, raising her glass in Harry’s direction. “And to the Dankworths!”

The wedding guests raised their glasses in a toast to the bride and groom, and Harry and his parents stood to gather around Portia for a teary embrace. Never one for public displays of affection, Portia endured their hugs well enough, smiling contentedly and nodding at what Harry’s parents were saying to her.

The band began to play a slower, romantic song and Prudence and Harry took to the dance floor once again. Harry seemed to be over the moon, gazing at his new wife like she was a goddess.

Colin could relate. He glanced over to where Penelope and Portia were speaking at the edge of the dancefloor. He watched as Portia touched Penelope’s cheek tenderly and said something that made Penelope smile tearfully.

He didn’t think he would ever truly understand the Featheringtons, but it made him happy to see Penelope getting along with her family. When Portia walked away, Colin finally saw his opening.

“May I have this dance, Miss Featherington?”

Penelope’s eyes shone up at him and she came willingly into his arms, wrapping her own around his neck. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. The rich turquoise-hued dress she wore was designed to make him lose his mind.

“This is a good night,” she murmured, softly. “I’m so glad you’re here with me.”

Colin kissed Penelope’s head, savouring the slow rotation across the floor, his mind drifting off to thoughts of how he would take her home after the reception ended so that he could strip that dress off her body and make sweet and thorough love to her until she blissfully cried out his name.

Then they would fall asleep together in their bed and he’d wake up early the next morning and cook her a leisurely breakfast.

They had some vague plans to go Christmas shopping tomorrow and a Sunday roast dinner at a pub with Eloise, Benedict, and Sophie. But other than that, his calendar was empty for the weekend and his phone was set to Do Not Disturb, just as he’d promised.

He was looking forward to it.

Chapter Text

“Pen, we’re going to be late!” Colin called up the stairs.

“I’ll be right down!” Penelope replied, putting the final touches on her makeup. She sprayed her face lightly with setting spray before she hurried into the vanity in their walk-in closet. She chose a simple pair of gold earrings Colin had bought for her during their last holiday in Spain and her Cartier love necklace to adorn her simple black dress with a scooped neckline. She hurried into their bedroom to grab her tiny clutch and slip on her heels.

They’d moved into their elegantly restored Victorian town house three years ago. When Colin had heard that a friend of Anthony’s was selling their home in West London and moving overseas, he’d quickly made an offer which was accepted before the house had gone on the market.

Colin had told Penelope he was tired of apartment living and he wanted a kitchen and dining space big enough to host dinners for his family. The conservatory kitchen extension in the back of the building with a glass ceiling and glass french doors that opened into a spacious backyard was perfect for what he envisioned. Sunday had become Penelope’s favourite day of the week—the Bridgertons would descend en masse to gather around their farmhouse dining table, which could seat up to twenty, and fill their house with chatter and laughter.

The original parquet flooring, ceiling cornices, and wood panelling reminded Penelope of the house she’d grown up in, but the underfloor heating, air conditioning, and modern bathrooms made it more cosy and comfortable than her childhood home had ever been.

The house had four bedrooms, far more than they needed. One had been converted into Penelope’s study, the other a storeroom, and the last a guest bedroom. Lately, when she walked past the latter, she smiled to herself and thought it would need to be redone soon.

She descended down the stairs carefully with her hand on the bannister.

Colin was checking his tie in the mirror in their foyer, he looked up as she descended and his handsome face lit up into a smile.

“I think we’d better delay the soft opening by a couple of hours,” he said, roguishly. “So we can go back upstairs.”

She laughed as he took her hand to help her down the final few steps and twirled her around. Five years had passed since they became official and he still managed to make her giggle and blush.

The boost of confidence was very welcome. Penelope had been feeling self conscious that her dress felt tighter around her waist and breasts than the last time she’d worn it and her face was rounder than usual.

As she reached up to straighten up his tie and collar, his eyes caught on her necklace. He touched the interlocking rings gently with his fingertips and stared at her with an expression that resembled astonished wonderment. Before she could question him however, his face cleared and he smiled and asked, “Shall we?”

Penelope nodded and they walked out the front door, hand in hand, to where Colin’s car was parked at the front of the house on the renovated driveway.

Half an hour later, thanks to relatively good traffic, they arrived at Colin’s brand new restaurant.

“Here we are,” Colin said.

“Ready?”

“Absolutely.”

He unbuckled his seatbelt, got out, and came around the car to open Penelope’s door for her. She stepped out with his help, making sure she had firm footing on the sidewalk in those heels he liked so much. Then they both looked up and Penelope couldn’t help but feel a flutter in her chest as she admired the fine dining establishment before her.

The lettering across the window read Penelope in a gilded font. Colin had kept the fact that he was naming his latest venture after her a secret, only revealing the truth after the plans were firmly put into motion. She’d been taken aback, and then shy, but Colin could not be dissuaded. So here they were, palm in palm, walking towards her namesake. It was a strange feeling, to be sure.

Colin held the door open for her and, as soon as she stepped inside, she was greeted by delicious scents and wide smiles and a chorus of “Colin! Penelope!”

The Bridgertons swarmed them immediately, enveloping Penelope in hugs and cheek kisses.

“The woman of the hour!” said Benedict cheerfully, raising his glass.

After he had sold his shares in Contessa, Colin had been content with running Ambrosia and enjoying having more time with Penelope and his family, but two years ago, he’d started to become restless, looking for a new project to invest his creativity and passion into.

Penelope, the restaurant, was an intimate and cosy dining space which could only seat up to thirty people. Diners would be treated to a 10 course chef-curated menu that changed depending on the season, the freshest ingredients available, and the chef’s own mood. Dunwoody had left Ambrosia in the capable hands of his protégé and he, along with two other chefs, worked in the kitchen.

There was a lot of anticipation for the restaurant’s opening next week. The first six months were already fully booked out.

Penelope, the person, was fully booked as well. She’d been shortlisted for a prestigious journalism award this year for breaking the story of a scandalous affair between the Minister for Sport and a teenage model and the next six months would be a whirlwind for her, too. She’d been inundated with interview requests and offers for the movie rights to the book she’d written about the scandal. The ongoing book tour was keeping her extremely busy. It was a little overwhelming when she thought about it, so she tried to suppress it from her mind at least for tonight.

As Penelope and the Bridgertons settled down, she beamed at Colin as he poured her a glass of her favourite champagne. As soon as he turned his back to pour drinks for his other family members, Eloise smoothly switched Penelope’s drink with her own mocktail.

Penelope threw Eloise a grateful look.

“You should probably tell him soon. I’m surprised he hasn’t figured it out himself yet.”

“Shhh,” Penelope hushed her. “He’s been so busy. Besides, I don’t want to steal his thunder. Tonight’s all about Penelope. The restaurant, I mean.”

Eloise rolled her eyes. “Naming his restaurant after the love of his life. Sentimental and stupid. Does he have any idea how fucking confusing it‘s going to get every time your name gets brought up in conversation?”

“It’s not going to get confusing. I call her Pen,” Colin said, turning his attention back to their conversation. Penelope could see he wanted to say something suggestive, but thought better of it considering he was surrounded by his family and several nieces and nephews. She suppressed a telltale blush.

Her eyes landed on the face across from hers and she seized the opportunity to change the subject. “Lucy,” she said, leaning forward. “I haven’t seen you in ages! How was Italy?”

“Great,” Lucy replied. “The wedding was absolutely beautiful. Richard actually cried, I was so shocked!”

Gregory, who was sitting next to her, chimed in, “Guess who caught the bridal bouquet?”

He laughed when Lucy swatted him, her face going red. She mumbled, “I swear Hermione and all the other girls planned it on purpose.”

Gregory winked at Colin. “Maybe Lucy and I will beat you and Pen to the altar.”

Lucy elbowed her boyfriend in the ribs and Penelope grinned at the teasing, casting a glance at Colin, and was surprised to see him eyeing Gregory with a strange look on his face.

There was no doubt in the minds of anyone present that Colin and Penelope would get married eventually. They talked about it as a forgone conclusion. It was a matter of when, not if. Penelope had wanted to put her career first.

She wanted her bylines to read Penelope Featherington and she wanted to put her own stamp on the world the way Colin had with Ambrosia. Colin had been nothing but supportive of her. Everyday they got closer to that elusive someday and Penelope had come to feel that perhaps the time was finally right.

But that was a conversation for another day. Tonight was all about Colin. And Penelope. The restaurant.

(Maybe Eloise had a point.)

She slipped her hand into Colin’s and squeezed.

The dishes came out and the family oohed and ahhed over the langoustine and crabmeat custard, clam and squid consommé, cheese gougeres, and caviar salad. Penelope gave her caviar to Eloise and thankfully Colin was too distracted to notice. The mains featured lamb, scallops and a pork belly so tender that it melted in Penelope’s mouth.

As the table was being cleared for the cheese and dessert courses, Penelope excused herself to use the loo. On her way back to the table, she bumped into Violet.

“There you are dearest,” Violet said, drawing her into a warm hug. “How have you been keeping?”

“I’m well,” Penelope smiled. “A little stretched thin with work and the book tour.”

“You wouldn’t know it. You look positively radiant,” Violet said, with a knowing smile.

Penelope inhaled sharply. She looked over at where Colin was sitting and happily chatting to his siblings.

“Oh, is it very obvious?” Penelope fretted.

“No, dear,” Violet reassured her. “But I’ve had eight children and nearly as many grandchildren. I think I can read the signs better than most people. How far along are you?”

“Nearly twelve weeks. I’ve been so busy and when I’m stressed my periods become irregular, so I didn’t even realise until I started getting nauseated and dizzy at the same time for exactly one hour every morning.”

“How marvellous,” Violet beamed, pulling her in for another hug.

“I’m waiting for the right time to tell Colin,” Penelope said in a quiet voice. “I don’t want to distract him. It's a very important time for him.

“Penelope, nothing is going to be more important to Colin than your wonderful news, I promise you.”

“Do you really think so?” She asked anxiously. Penelope knew that Colin loved and adored her, but that didn’t mean that she had completely defeated the old voices in her head. They hadn’t planned for this and she was troubled by the possibility that Colin would be disappointed with the timing given that he’d just started a new business that required his full attention and focus.

“Penelope,” Violet pressed a palm to Penelope’s cheek as though she was still a child that needed to be soothed. “My darling girl. I never did thank you, did I?”

“Thank me?” Penelope wondered. “For what?”

“Five years ago, Colin was overworked, stressed, and deeply unhappy. He felt as though he needed purpose in life and he thought that drowning himself in work was the answer to what he was searching for. You ground him, Penelope. You gave him a true purpose. Nothing is more important to my son than loving and caring for you.”

Before Penelope could respond, Colin chose that precise moment to approach them. She was very grateful for the distraction, her throat had felt rather tight from Violet’s words.

“Come with me,” he murmured into her ear.

She felt an odd flutter in her belly at the sound of his voice. It was different from the sort of flutter she’d been feeling lately, much more reminiscent of earlier days when a simple glance from Colin would make her giddy. Penelope smoothed a hand over her stomach, settling herself, and nodded.

“We’ll be back soon,” Colin said to his mother. Violet smiled widely—giving him and Penelope an encouraging nod—and Colin led her away, heading towards the back of the restaurant. She felt eyes on the back of her head the entire way and wondered what this was about.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

Colin merely grinned conspiratorially and tightened the arm he had around her waist. He had a sparkle in his eye, which she loved. Happiness looked great on Colin.

He stopped in front of a door and gripped the handle. “Here we are.”

Curiously, Penelope watched as he turned the handle and held the door open for her. Colin gestured for her to go ahead of him, so she did.

Colin followed her inside the dimly lit room and closed the door behind him. Penelope blinked as it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. Then she gasped.

The room was full to the brim with flowers, adorning every available surface. Candles flickered in between the massive bouquets, deliberately placed to form a path from the doorway to a table in the middle of the room, where a silver cloche lay front and centre.

“Colin?” she asked, in wonderment. “What—?”

“Take a look,” he said softly. His eyes were brimming with warmth and anticipation and the way he was looking at her filled her with butterflies.

She walked towards the table, her heart leaping in her chest. Her fingers brushed the gleaming metal of the cloche, cool to the touch.

Penelope lifted it. Beneath lay a small, velvet covered box. Colin reached for it as Penelope watched. His hands were steady, but she detected a hint of a tremble in his thumb as he opened it to reveal a beautiful, white gold ring set with round diamonds to form a fleurette motif at the centre.

Time seemed to slow as Colin sank to one knee before her, holding the ring box open.

“Penelope,” he began, his eyes bright with reverence. “Five years ago, at another soft opening, I’d planned something very similar to this. That night went tits up, so I didn’t get to say what I wanted to say to you at the time. To be honest, I can’t really remember what I’d planned to say. Something stupid probably, like how my ability to run a restaurant would mean I’d be worthy of the love of a woman as brave and brilliant as you.”

Penelope made a tremulous sound, something like a cross between a sob and a hiccup. Colin reached out and squeezed her hand tenderly as he continued. “But the truth is, Pen, it will be a lifetime’s work, proving myself a man worthy of your devotion and your love. And I promise you, I will dedicate myself to the task. I promise to treasure you and to never take you for granted, if you’ll have me?”

Her eyes filled with happy tears. “Oh, Colin. Yes, of course. Of course, I’ll marry you.”

Colin rose to his feet and plucked the ring from the velvet box. He slid it onto her finger, where it sparkled and fit perfectly. Penelope tilted her face up for a kiss and Colin bent to give her what she wanted, his lips warm and possessive.

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

There was a sweet, overwhelming ache in her chest that could only be assuaged by another kiss from Colin. Penelope wound her arms about his neck and drew him down again. When they broke apart, his voice was throaty and thick with affection, “Would you like a spring wedding, love? I like the idea of having our reception at Aubrey Hall.”

“I…” Penelope met his gaze and bit her lip. She breathed out, “Well, actually. I think it will have to be in the next two months or else we’ll have to wait until spring next year.”

Colin gave her a teasing grin that set her heart fluttering. “Next two months? Are you that eager to be hitched to me?”

“I am, but…” She breathed in again, and let the words spill from her lips: “Our baby is going to make themselves known very soon.”

He stilled. “What?”

“You’re going to be a daddy, Colin.”

The look Colin gave her was intense as understanding dawned on him and his grip on her waist tightened. “Oh, my god. Oh, my god. My darling girl. My sweet love. Really? How?”

“Do you remember when we visited Fran and John? I was recovering from that awful cold and I was still on antibiotics? We were supposed to be using condoms, but we…well, we weren't exactly good at remembering that, were we?”

Amazement filled his features and Penelope felt dazed by the huge smile that followed. For a second everything felt strangely unreal—how was it that this remarkable, beautiful man had proposed to her? That she carried his baby in her womb? That he loved her just as much as she loved him?

“I can’t believe it, Pen,” he murmured, sounding awed. “You’ve made me the happiest man in the entire world.”

She was quite certain it was the other way around and said so. Colin bestowed another dazzling smile upon her and kissed her until her legs were wobbly.

“We’d better go back,” he grinned, holding her up. “I can’t wait to let everyone know I’m going to be a dad!” He almost shouted the last part, making Penelope giggle. “Come on, love. Careful.”

He hustled her over to the door and wrenched it open. He led her back down the hall to the main dining room. Penelope gasped as her ears were assaulted by the sound of multiple pops.

Eloise approached, threw one arm around Penelope’s waist and lifted Penelope’s hand in the other, showing off the sparkly ring: “She said yes!”

A cacophony of voices and cheers sounded as Penelope and Colin found themselves surrounded by their family and friends. A rainbow of confetti burst into the air. Colin’s brothers slapped him on the shoulders, shouting, “Atta boy!”

In the background, Gregory and Hyacinth had unfurled a long, glittery banner that read:

W E L C O M E  T O  T H E  F A M

Once again, Penelope felt that surge of surrealness, but the feeling was fleeting as she took in the delighted faces before her, their expressions full of love and acceptance and happiness. Her heart soared.

It took quite some time for the uproar to settle down. Once everyone had had their turn to congratulate them, Colin forced them all to sit back down, his face flushed from the delighted cheers. He gathered Penelope back to his side, holding her firmly against him. They exchanged an anticipatory look. Anthony started hushing his younger siblings, who had become rather loud due to the bottles of champagne that had been opened.

“Thank you,” Penelope said, as Colin drew his hand over hers and rested them over her belly. “We’ve got another announcement to make.”

Across the room, Violet’s eyes twinkled merrily.

THE END