“Who are you, and what have you done with Penelope Dawson?”
Pen chuckles, the sound making my stomach flutter.
“I’ve always had mad skills. You’re simply unaware of half of them.” She shrugs, not expanding, but there is no missing the sass in her tone. “Look, the program is going to take a while. Let’s get some dinner ordered in. I can’t work on an empty stomach.”
That’s a lie. I used to remind Pen to eat all the time. Because she was so focused on her work, she forgot that her body and brain needed fuel. Her near collapse after a gruelling night prompted me to begin ordering takeaway for late nights.
“But don’t we need to wait until Tiffany does her thing?”
Pen taps her smartwatch. “She’ll notify me as soon as it’s complete.”
“Now you’re just trying to pacify me,” I grumble.
“Am I that obvious?”
“Yes.”
“Or maybe I’ve simply learned to take better care of myself,” she says.
My chest aches. It’s true. Fifteen years is a long time. We’re no longer those two carefree young adults. Now, we both run multi-million-pound empires.
“Come on,” she says, moving towards the door. “I’m starving. There’s nothing we can do here. Let’s order a takeaway.”
I stand up. I should be annoyed. I’ve stood here watching her, an outsider break through my company firewall and rummage through my code. But watching Pen at work has stolen my breath. Her skills are off the charts. As a fellow programmer, I can appreciate that. If I’m honest, I’m not sure what I’d do without her. I realise I trust Pen. My brothers and sister trust her, so instead of bitching and moaning, I take her lead and follow her back upstairs. Yet I know, the hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach is more than simple hunger.
CHAPTER 18
PEN
The walls of my sanctuary are closing in, and I need to get out.
Why the hell am I talking to Elijah about my wish to start a family?
We aren’t close, haven’t been for years. But talking to him now. It’s like the years have melted away. A wave of sadness washes over me.
Elijah says nothing. He rises and follows me back up the stairs.
FIFTEEN YEARS AGO
“Penelope Dawson?”
I stare at the two men standing in the doorway to my room.
Fuck!
“Can I help you?” I ask, trying to hold my voice steady.
“Are you Penelope Dawson?”
The taller of the two asks again.
I nod my head but hold his gaze.
“Can I help you?” I repeat.
Don’t show any fear, play dumb. They’ve got nothing on you.
He and his partner hold up ID badges, which I step forward and look at.
