“I’ve decided to make a semi-surprise visit to our new acquisition in the Maldives. Can I leave you to organise it?”
There’s a pause.
“Of course, I’ll get straight on it,” he says, always Mr Efficient. “And just so you know, I gave your brother the brief he requested.”
“Perfect. Thank you.”
There’s another pause.
“You’re welcome.”
I disconnect the call and open the email that’s just landed in my inbox.
CHAPTER 7
KAT
Penelope Dawson is glowing as I walk across the restaurant towards her.
If her beaming smile is any indication of how well her relationship with my brother is going, it’s clearly having a positive effect on them both.
She gets up as I reach the table and pulls me in for a hug.
“How are you doing?” she says, stepping back, but holding onto my upper arms.
Her eyes scan my face, making me shift uncomfortably. Pen has always been able to read me.
“Oh, you know,” I say with a shrug.
A frown mars her brow, and I instantly regret my words.
Shit!What’s wrong with me?
I grab her hand in mine and squeeze. Our waitress hovers nearby, before jumping forward to pull out my seat. I plaster on myeverything is finemask as I sit down, waiting for my napkin to be settled across my lap.
I look up. “Thank you,” I say. “Can we have a moment?”
She nods and smiles in response. “Of course. I’ll be back to take your orders.”
My hands move to my cutlery, then drop back into my lap. My eyes meet Pen’s.
I’m usually positive, but the last couple of months, it’s become harder to maintain that persona. It’s like a weight is pressing down on me constantly. That and the fact that sleep has not been my friend for far too long.
“How are you?” I say, redirecting the conversation with a smile. “Is that brother of mine treating you well?”
Pen scowls slightly, but lets it slide. I’m not stupid enough to think she’ll drop it. This is but a momentary reprieve. My hands drift back to my knife and fork, straightening them. When I look up again, I’m fascinated by the pink flush that’s spreading over her cheeks.
I quirk a brow, and her hands go to cover them. I laugh.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you blush in all the years I’ve known you,” I rib her.
“I’m pregnant,” she blurts out, her hand slamming against her mouth, her eyes darting around the area in case anyone has overheard.
My jaw drops, but I close it quickly, my hand snaking across the table and grabbing hers.
“That’s wonderful news,” I say excitedly, before taking in her expression. “Isn’t it?”
Pen bites her lip, a habit of old, one she reverts to when she’s feeling less than confident.
