She throws herself into the far corner, just like always, but fidgets the entire ten-minute ride.
"Missing your laptop?" I ask when we hit 43rd.
She turns to me, eyes filled with concern. "This is bad, isn't it? That we can't talk about anything besides work?"
"Relax, Penny. We're not dating. And we like our work."
A shadow flickers across her pale features. "But we are... dating, I mean. We're supposed to be engaged. Which means I should know what color your underwear is, and what order you eat your breakfast, and whether or not you hate mustard on your hotdog at the ballpark."
"You know that one," I remind her dryly.
"Right. Everything. Like a Chicago dog. But the rest?" She eyes me with something close to panic. "What kind of coffee maker do you have?" Her brows knit together and she skewers me with a wild-eyed glare. "Don't you dare leave me alone with your mother until we've discussed all this."
I reach over and cover her hand. "You'll do just fine, Penny." Touching her like this takes me back to the only other night we've ever been together socially. My heart lurches at the memory. That night... changed everything. "I promise, I won't abandon you."
She sucks in a shaky breath and squeezes my hand. I like it. Far too much. The car slows and pulls into a long line of vehicles waiting to drop off their VIPs at the front of the building. I reach into my suit pocket. "I almost forgot. Will this do?" I pull out a small velvet box and open it so she can see the ring inside.
Her gasp dissolves into a giggle. "Ohmygod, you didn't."
My answering grin is all the confirmation she needs.
"Oh my god that is hideous and glorious. I love it." She reaches for the ring, and my chest puffs at her reaction. More than it should, because this is just a transaction.
I pull the ring from the case. "Hold out your hand," I say, voice suddenly rough.
It's just pretend.
This is all just pretend.
But it feels strangely normal, putting a ring that by any other standards would be considered ugly as fuck on Penny's hand. And when I slide it on her third finger, my chest pulls tight. But before I can think too much about it, she pulls her hand back and surveys the way the facets catch the light. The center stone is a one-and-a-half carat pink heart-shaped diamond, flanked by clear diamonds and set in rose gold. The band is titanium inlaid with alternating pink and white diamonds. It's expensive enough she should have security but gaudy enough it looks like vintage costume jewelry. And on Penny's hand, it's apropos.
Her husky laugh ripples through the space. "This is perfect. I love it."
Our car rolls to a stop, and I wait for Edward to come around and open our door. I step out, then turn around to help Penny. Touching her hand sends electricity racing up my arm and my heart pounds a little harder. I lace my fingers through hers and lean down. "I only drink coffee at the office. I drink an energy shake on the way to our team's early morning workouts. And I don't cook."
At the top of the stairs, we step into the line of guests waiting to enter and I pull the invitation from my jacket pocket. I can feel the tension radiating off Penny, and I give her hand a squeeze. "There's a photographer from Kansas City Magazine just inside, taking pictures of the guests. Then we can grab drinks and go find my mother."
Penny's smile tightens. "Oh joy."
"It will only be for a few minutes. She'll want to circulate before the dinner portion."
"What's this all for again?"
"Every year the Forde Family Foundation sponsors a class of debutantes-"
"You're kidding me."
I huff out a quiet laugh. "Not at all. It's a tradition that goes back to the fifties. You're marrying into old money, Penny."
She wrinkles her nose, scowling. "Isn't this a lot like dressing up sheep before they're led to the slaughter? I mean, where are the male debutantes? This is all about parading pretty young women around so they can catch wealthy older husbands."
"Maybe that's what it used to be, but every woman here is headed off to college and will receive a four-year scholarship from us."
"And how many of them actually need it?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean just that. How many of these women come from single-parent households? Or wouldn't make it to college except with the help of your family's scholarships? How many of these women attended Lincoln Prep?"
I open my mouth to protest, then promptly shut it. She's absolutely right and I don't like how it sits with me. The young women who will be honored here tonight come from the most prestigious high schools across the metro. Their families can afford to send them anywhere. "It's not like that," I finish lamely, knowing that's exactly how it is.
Her scowl turns into a glare. "You're throwing money at young women who don't need it. Way to go, big guy. Pat yourself on the shoulder." She shakes her head in disgust but before I can formulate a strong counter-argument, we step onto the red carpet.
I hand the photographer's assistant my invitation. "Stockton Forde and Penelope Anne Fischer." She cringes when I use her full given name.
"Ooh show us that ring, hon," crows the photographer. "Step in closer, hand on his chest."
I put my arm around her and tuck her into my side. Her arm slips around my backside, and just as the flash goes off, she pinches my ass. Hard. "Brat," I murmur through my frozen smile.
"One more?" The photographer asks.
"Sure," says Penny before I can refuse, pinching my ass again.
I dip my head as we move off the carpet. "You'll pay for that," I growl.
"I'm so scared," she tosses back dryly, before gasping as she takes in the giant black marble pillars that make Kirkwood Hall so magnificent.
"Stunning, isn't it? Have you never been here?"
"I work a lot."
A pang of guilt twists my belly, and I decide to bring her here for lunch next week. Although the idea of leaving work at six every evening makes my skin itch, Penny's probably right. I could pull the cybersquad off R&D and into more of the day to day operations, and if Penny is serious about gamification of hacking, I could move her to R&D. But I immediately dismiss that idea. My office won't be the same without her in it. I pull two flutes of champagne off a passing tray and hand one to Penny. "Cheers." I want to say more. I should say more. But anything I say will come off as cliché or too loaded with meaning.
We clink glasses and Penny holds my gaze as she takes a sip. There's a lot to unpack in her intense green eyes, the flare of unexpected heat most of all. My body responds all too readily, heat settling low in my belly. I drain my glass. "Come on. Let's go find my mother."
We wind our way through the crowd, to where my mother is holding court near the grand piano. While we enjoy dinner in Rozelle Court, a band will set up where the piano player is. I place an arm around Penny, squeezing her waist for reassurance as we step into my mother's circle. My mother is impeccably coiffed, her ash blonde hair swept into a sophisticated updo, pearl drops studded with diamonds at her ears. She's wearing a champagne-colored silk sheath that highlights the same hazel eyes that belong to me. A gold, diamond, and pearl statement necklace rings her neck. My mother is beautiful, and easily looks ten years younger than her fifty-nine years. It's always been a mystery to me why she never remarried after my father died.