Eight
Penelope wasn’t aware the charity dinner Zach invited her to would be at his parents’ home. Until they pulled into the long driveway, fountains flanking either side, the grass mowed into an artistic crisscross pattern.
The house was gargantuan. She hadn’t been joking about seeing it online, but one couldn’t fathom thirty-seven thousand square feet until looking right at it. The place was like its own city.
“Wow,” she murmured, gripping her wrap and clutch. “This is impressive.”
From beside her in the back of the limo, Zach emitted a noncommittal grunt.
“Did you grow up in this house?”
“No. They bought this place about seven or eight years ago. We grew up in a big house, but not this big.”
The driver pulled to a stop and an attendant in a fine tuxedo opened the limo door for her. She accepted his offered hand, stepped out and transferred that hand to Zach.
“You’ve done this before,” he commented. His tux was like the one he’d worn to Chase’s birthday party, but he’d chosen an all-black ensemble: shirt and bowtie included. The darkness made his golden skin, bright green eyes and hair in need of a trim stand out in tantalizing contrast.
“Keep looking at me like that,” he murmured into her hair, “and I’ll have to show you to one of the many private bedrooms.”
She should scold him but couldn’t. Finding a bedroom sounded, well...lovely.
The charity function was being held in the house’s ballroom on the far east side—or as Pen liked to think of it, “left.” They joined the well-dressed throngs clicking through the marble hallways and stopping to admire what had to be million-dollar-plus paintings and sculptures dotting the long corridor.
“Pretentious, right?” Zach muttered, earning a gasp from an older woman whose gray curls were piled on top of her head.
Pen swallowed the laugh pushing against her throat. If that older woman knew who Zach was would she be more or less offended?
It wasn’t until they entered the ballroom where the silent auction was underway that the butterflies in Pen’s tummy took flight. Right at the same moment her date said...
“There’s my mom.”
His mom. As in a mom. As in what Penelope would soon be—or was now, depending on when one started counting. She might start hyperventilating.
“Before I forget...” Zach stepped in her line of vision, taking it up with his fine attire and gorgeous self. “This is for you.”
He reached into his pocket and light winked off a small metal object—okay, now she was going to hyperventilate.
He slid the band onto the third finger of Pen’s left hand, a massive square-cut diamond in the center of an army of smaller diamonds. She...gaped. The ring was stunningly beautiful, and would likely require stronger biceps in order to hold her arm up while wearing it.
“Zach.” Her gasp was muted, and then vanished altogether, when he lifted her knuckles and placed a kiss on them and the ring.
“Can’t look engaged without the ring, now, can you?” His dimple made a brief appearance.
“I suppose not.”
“Let’s say hello.” He offered his right arm and Pen looped her left hand around his elbow, trying hard not to stare at the blinding facets winking up at her.
“Eleanor Ferguson,” he said when he reached his mother. “I have someone I’d like you to meet.”
Eleanor turned, her martini balanced between manicured pink nails and a few stunning rings of her own, all diamond-encrusted and throwing off nearly as much light as Penelope’s. Her blond hair was coiffed and stylish with warm honey highlights.
“Penelope, I presume.”
Pen nodded.
“Please, call me Elle. It’s wonderful to meet the woman who stole Zach’s heart.” There was nothing disingenuous about her smile, but Pen still felt as if the woman’s reaction was a touch insincere.
“Heavens, Zach. Renaldo did well.” Elle lifted Pen’s left hand and examined the engagement ring. “Renaldo is our family jeweler. He’s the best.” She slid the pad of her thumb over the diamonds. “Perfect fit, too. A little wiggle room is always nice in case you eat too much salt.”
Or if I’m pregnant with your grandchild.
“Where’s Dad?”
“Hors d’oeuvres.” Elle rolled eyes that were a muted shade of Zach’s envious greens. “Since his heart attack, I make him eat healthy, but the very moment he’s out of my sight, he’s elbow deep in sausage canapés.”
Elle waved over an extremely tall, white-haired man who was patting his lips with a napkin. Zach’s father didn’t look like a man who’d suffered a heart attack. He walked with a lazy swagger, his tuxedo fitted over his lean body. His hair tickled his collar, in need of a trim like his son’s. His gray eyes narrowed on Penelope as he approached.
“Hey, son.”
“Penelope Brand, this is my father, Rand, but everyone calls him Rider.”
“Pretty girls like you can call me whatever you please,” Rider said in a deep baritone before he kissed her hand. Then he held her hand out at arm’s length. “Congratulations on your engagement to Zach. Looks like he chose better the second time around.”
“Rand! Honestly,” Elle scolded, clucking her tongue. “It’s lovely to meet you, Penelope. Zach, your brother was looking for you earlier. If you see him, do ask him to bring his date by to say hello. He’s being quite rude.”
Zach’s parents linked arms and walked away and Penelope let out the breath going stale in her lungs.
“They’re intense,” she said.
“Are they?” Zach looked after them and then turned to face Penelope. “My mother’s favorite phrase is quite rude by the way, so don’t let that alarm you.”
Still, the woman made Pen’s shoulders crawl under her ears.
“What can I get you to drink?”
“Anything clear and sparkling.” Sadly. She could use a glass of champagne.
“Club soda?”
“With a lime.” What the hell. Might as well go crazy.
“Perfect timing. Stef!” Zach lifted his voice to be heard and a few heads turned in their direction. It was clear that he was comfortable in the stuffy crowd. Pen already wanted to slip outside for some fresh air.
“Hey, kids.” Stefanie approached in a fuchsia dress, her dark blond hair wound into a fancy twist. She smiled over her martini. “Penelope, you have to try these. The gin is the best I’ve ever had.”
“Pen’s not drinking this evening. Hang out here for a moment with her while I get her a club soda.”
“Club soda?” Stef asked, but her words bounced off Zach’s retreating back.
“I haven’t been feeling well today.” It was the truth. Pen woke with morning sickness that kept her in bed an extra hour. She nibbled on saltine crackers while checking her email on her phone. She’d yet to throw up as a result of morning sickness, but she’d become increasingly grateful that her private office had an attached bathroom.
“You don’t look the least bit pale, so that’s a plus.” Stefanie’s assessing gaze trickled over her, and Pen worried for a moment the younger woman might see right through her facade.
“I hear your oldest brother has a date,” Pen said, successfully rerouting Stef’s gaze.
Stef’s eyes swept the room. “He does. I met her. She’s a stiff like he is.”
Pen saw them then, a slight woman with dark hair whose arm was linked with Chase’s. He was talking to his parents now, so there was no need to pass on Elle’s observation that he was being quite rude.
“Did you bid on anything?” Pen asked Stef.
“The spa package.” She pointed to one corner and then to a painting to the right. “And that horrible artwork.”
A chuckle erupted out of Pen before she could help it.
“I like you, Penelope.” Stef’s sincerity was obvious. The woman didn’t say things she didn’t mean. Pen knew that much. “If anyone is going to enter this family, I’m glad it’s you. Zach hasn’t always had the best taste.”
“Oh?” Pen stepped closer, curious about Zach’s dating habits. “Let me guess. Complete playboy.”
“He has a good heart, but most women never access it. As for Yvonne and that Vegas wedding thing... What the hell?”
“It is curious that he tied the knot with her.” The thin redhead seemed better suited for anyone other than Zach Ferguson.
“He said getting married sounded fun,” Stef said. “But that’s pretty much his prescription for life, isn’t it? If it sounds like a good time, why not attempt?”
Penelope’s stomach sank. This time she did palm her torso as a bout of queasiness overtook her.
What Stef said was true—and Pen had seen it in action. Zach introduced her as his fiancée the evening of Chase’s birthday party because it sounded fun. They slept together that first night—and several nights thereafter because it was fun. Pen fell in line with that thinking because being around Zach made her embrace the fun. His world was shimmering and enticing, and she’d wanted some of that for herself.
Only that fun had turned into a baby due at the end of this year. That fun had become a human being, half Zach, half Pen. A baby wasn’t something you “attempted” because it sounded fun. There’d be no walking away if their son or daughter suddenly lost his or her luster. At least not for her. While she was definitely ill-equipped for motherhood, she was willing to live and learn. Her own mother had set a stellar example and, like her, Pen planned on rocking the business world as well as a breast pump. It’d take some practice and she was sure there would be moments where she had no idea what she was doing, but she’d manage.
What about Zach, though? Would her fake fiancé turn his back on their child if he or she suddenly didn’t fit into his fun lifestyle? Did Pen make a mistake letting him talk her into staying?
“Pen? You don’t look so good.” Stef’s hand rested on Penelope’s shoulder as the world swam in and out.
Pen’s cheeks heated, her head spun and she rocked on her high heels. She swept her blurring vision over to Zach, who approached with a drink in each hand.
The last thing she remembered was him dropping both glasses to rush over as her world was swallowed in black.