3. P E N E L O P E

1.       HENRY

"Penny, the boss wants to see you," Mara, the boss’s assistant, announces from the doorway, her presence casting a shadow over my desk.

I nod, rising from my seat and straightening my blouse before making my way to the boss’s office. Stepping into the elevator, I feel a sense of apprehension creeping over me as it ascends to the top floor. The long passageway leading to Mr. Goodwill's office feels like a journey into the unknown, each step echoing with uncertainty.

I knock on the door, and his voice beckons me inside. Mr. Goodwill's gaze sweeps over me as I approach his desk, sending a shiver down my spine. Though he's in his early thirties, his features lack the allure that his position of power seems to afford him.

"Take a seat," he gestures, his voice carrying a hint of underlying intent.

I comply, settling into the chair across from him, my nerves on edge.

"Well, Penelope, I'm very impressed with your work lately. You've really helped boost the company's financials with your marketing ideas," he commends, his words laced with a calculated charm.

"Thank you, sir," I reply, though his praise rings hollow in light of the tension hanging in the air.

"I'd like to give you a promotion," he announces, his smile tinged with a veiled motive.

"I'd really appreciate that, Mr. Goodwill," I respond cautiously, sensing that there's more to his proposition than meets the eye.

"But I'd like you to do me a favour," he continues, his smile taking on a predatory edge.

My stomach churns with unease as I brace myself for what comes next.

"Go out with me for dinner?" he proposes, his tone leaving no room for refusal.

I raise an eyebrow, disbelief mingling with indignation at his audacity. "Like on a date?"

He nods, his gaze unwavering. "Exactly."

"I can't do that. You're my boss, and that would be unethical," I assert, my voice trembling with defiance.

"I am your boss, but I wouldn't see it as unethical," he counters, his tone dripping with entitlement.

Firmly rooted in my principles, I shake my head. "No, I can't do it."

Mr. Goodwill's expression darkens as he rises from his seat, his towering figure casting a menacing shadow over me. "You can't say no to me," he asserts, his voice rising with anger.

I shrink back in my chair, the weight of his imposing presence bearing down on me. His dark green eyes bore into mine with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine.

“I’m sorry,” I stammer, my fear palpable in the air.

Mr. Goodwill's laughter sends a chill down my spine, his amusement tinged with malice. “I do apologize, Miss Harding. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he taunts, his words dripping with insincerity.

I nod fearfully, desperate to diffuse the tension that hangs between us, yet unable to shake the feeling of unease that lingers long after he dismisses me.

He lowers down to his seat and looks at me, “Now I’ll ask you again, will you go out with me for dinner Miss Harding?”

As I exit Mr. Goodwill's office, a sense of dread settles in the pit of my stomach. Agreeing to his proposition feels like a betrayal of my principles, yet the weight of my responsibilities weighs heavily on my shoulders. I can't afford to lose my job; it's my lifeline, my means of providing for my sick Aunt Linda. But at what cost?

The nausea hits me like a tidal wave, and I rush to the bathroom, my heart pounding with anxiety. The bile rises in my throat as I empty the contents of my stomach into the toilet bowl. The whole ordeal leaves me feeling drained, physically, and emotionally, my mind spinning with conflicting thoughts.

I despise Mr. Goodwill with every fibre of my being – his lecherous gaze, his crude remarks, his insufferable arrogance. And the fact that he's married only adds another layer of disgust to the situation. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and right now, I'm backed into a corner with no easy way out.

After composing myself, I return to my desk, burying my turmoil beneath a facade of professionalism. The day passes in a blur, my mind preoccupied with the impending date that hangs over me like a dark cloud.

By the time I leave the office at five p.m., Mr. Goodwill has already sent me the details of our date. It's scheduled for Friday, giving me a few days to prepare myself mentally and emotionally. Steeling myself for what's to come, I brace for the challenges ahead.

Arriving home at six o'clock, I find Aunt Linda tending to her pots in the kitchen. Her warm smile offers a brief respite from the turmoil raging inside me.

“Penny,” she greets, her voice filled with affection as I enter the room.

"Hey, Mama," I respond, pressing a kiss to her cheek, grateful for her presence in my life, even in the midst of chaos.

As I enter the cozy kitchen, the comforting aroma of home-cooked meals envelops me, dispelling some of the tension from the day. Aunt Linda's warm smile welcomes me, her eyes filled with genuine concern and affection.

“How was work today, baby?” she inquires, her voice laced with maternal care.

I release a weary sigh, my thoughts still consumed by the events of the day. “Good, might get a promotion,” I reply with a hint of uncertainty.

Aunt Linda's gasp of excitement is palpable. “Oh my gosh, that’s great, baby,” she exclaims, her joy contagious.

I offer a faint smile in response. “Thank you,” I murmur, the weight of uncertainty still lingering in my mind.

“You don’t look so happy about it,” Aunt Linda observes perceptively, her gaze unwavering.

“I am happy, I just... I don’t know if I’ll get it,” I confess, the doubts gnawing at me.

“Oh, baby child, whether you get it or not, it doesn’t matter to me. You’re an honest, respectable, and intelligent young woman. You’ll succeed,” she reassures me, her words a soothing balm to my frazzled nerves.

Touched by her unwavering support, I pull her into a tight embrace. “Thank you, mama,” I whisper, gratitude filling my heart.

“I love you, baby,” she murmurs softly.

“I love you too,” I respond, pulling away reluctantly. “Did you take your meds?”

“Yes, I did,” she confirms with a gentle smile.

“Are they working?” I inquire, concern etched in my voice.

Aunt Linda meets my gaze with a hopeful expression. “Yes, they are,” she affirms.

“Good,” I reply with a relieved sigh. After the trials and tribulations of her health struggles, any sign of progress feels like a ray of hope.

“Now, go get changed; dinner is almost ready,” Aunt Linda instructs, her maternal authority soothing my worries.

I retreat to my modest bedroom, the familiar surroundings offering a sense of comfort and solace. Changing out of my work clothes, I slip into my cozy onesie, adorned with a purple bonnet and pink bunny slippers. With a contented sigh, I make my way to the dining room, where Aunt Linda awaits with two steaming bowls of spaghetti and meatballs.

Seated on the couch, I watch as Aunt Linda joins me, her eyes lighting up as the TV flickers to life. There, on the screen, is King Henry, gracing a charity event with his presence.

“He is so sexy,” Aunt Linda comments hungrily, her admiration evident.

Heat rushes to my cheeks as memories of our encounter flood my mind. “He is, and he’s awfully sweet,” I admit, unable to suppress a blush.

Aunt Linda's scrutinizing gaze falls on me, her suspicions evident. “Have you met him?” she probes, her curiosity piqued.

My heart skips a beat, and I stumble over my words. “Uh, he looks awfully sweet, is what I meant to say,” I stammer, attempting to deflect her inquiry.

Aunt Linda regards me with a knowing look, her intuition sharp as ever. “Mhm, okay,” she murmurs, her tone tinged with amusement.

As I sit at the dining table with Aunt Linda, I find myself averting my gaze from her inquisitive stare. Conversations about boys have always been a touchy subject between us, not because she disapproves of my dating life, but because Aunt Linda tends to get carried away with her excitement. The only boy I've ever brought home was Ashby, my childhood friend, whose presence she always welcomed warmly, knowing the close bond we shared and the friendship between our families.

After dinner, Aunt Linda and I clean up the kitchen together, a routine that brings a sense of companionship and domestic tranquillity. Once the chores are done, Aunt Linda retreats to her bedroom, leaving me alone for the rest of the night. I decide to retire to my own room and prepare for the next day's work. As I finish my nightly routine and slip under the covers, my phone suddenly rings, breaking the silence of the night. It's Ashby.

"Hello?" I answer, slightly surprised by his call.

"Penny, why haven’t you been answering my messages?" His tone carries a hint of frustration.

I furrow my brows. "Sorry, I’ve been busy with work."

"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you," he sighs, his concern palpable. "You know how worried I get about you."

"It’s okay. Why are you calling?" I inquire, curious about the reason for his sudden contact.

"You disappeared last night. What happened?" His question is laced with curiosity and concern.

I settle onto my bed, feeling the soft comfort of the blankets enveloping me. "I had to get home. I do have a job I need to wake up to."

"Of course," he acknowledges, understanding my commitment to my responsibilities.

Silence settles between us for a moment before Ashby speaks again. "Henry hasn’t stopped talking about you. It seems like you’ve left a mark," he chuckles.

A smile tugs at my lips, a sense of satisfaction creeping in. "Really?"

"Yeah, I think I might cut my ears off. Everything is about you now," he jokes, his playful banter easing the tension.

"I thought he liked Sophia," I remark, recalling the interactions from the previous night.

Ashby laughs, his amusement evident even over the phone. "Definitely not."

As our conversation continues, I find comfort in Ashby's familiar presence and his ability to lighten the mood, even in the midst of uncertainty.

As Ashby's comforting words wash over me, I find myself grappling with a mixture of emotions. The reassurance he offers soothes my anxious mind, but the guilt of lying to him weighs heavily on my conscience. Tears blur my vision as I struggle to articulate the turmoil within me.

"Penny, come on, don’t lie to me like that," Ashby's gentle admonishment cuts through the silence, his concern palpable even through the phone.

I let out a shaky breath, my voice trembling with emotion. "Okay, it’s work."

"What about work?" Ashby probes, his tone filled with genuine care.

I swallow hard, trying to suppress the overwhelming surge of emotions threatening to consume me. "I might get a promotion."

"That’s great, babe, but what’s the issue?" Ashby's voice is filled with understanding, his unwavering support a beacon of comfort in my stormy sea of thoughts.

A heavy lump forms in my throat, tears welling up in my eyes as I struggle to articulate my deepest fears. "I really don’t know what I’ll do if I don’t get it, Ash."

"Penny, baby, you’ll get that promotion," Ashby reassures me, his words imbued with confidence and reassurance.

But the weight of my deception becomes too much to bear, and I break down in tears, the floodgates of my emotions opening wide.

"I’ll be there in five minutes," Ashby's voice, filled with determination, resonates through the phone before he hangs up.

With a heavy heart, I confront the guilt of my lie. I've never deceived Ashby before, and the realization of betraying his trust gnaws at me from within. Gathering what little strength I have left, I rise from my bed and make my way to the bathroom, seeking solace in the simple ritual of washing my face.

As the cool water cascades over my skin, I offer myself words of encouragement, a silent mantra to bolster my resolve. "Girl, you need to be strong. You're doing this for Mama, not just for yourself."

Returning to my room, I'm met with a knock at the door. Peering through the peephole, I see Ashby standing outside, a comforting presence in the midst of my turmoil. With a deep breath, I unlock the door and welcome him in.

"Hey, princess," Ashby greets me with a warm smile, his arms laden with treats to soothe my troubled soul. "I came as soon as I could."

Grateful for his presence, I lead him to my room, where we settle onto the bed together. As Ashby produces a tub of ice cream and chocolate, a small smile tugs at my lips.

"You didn’t have to come, Ash," I murmur, touched by his unwavering support.

"You were crying, and as your best friend, I have to wipe those tears and put a smile on your face," Ashby replies, his words a gentle reminder of his steadfast friendship.

With a shared understanding, we delve into our sweet indulgence, the simple act of eating ice cream serving as a balm for our troubled hearts.

"Now, talk to me," Ashby encourages, his warm gaze urging me to share my burdens.

Taking a deep breath, I open up about my fears and insecurities, finding solace in his empathetic presence. With each spoonful of ice cream, the weight on my shoulders begins to lift, replaced by a sense of comfort and camaraderie.

As Ashby listens intently, offering words of encouragement and understanding, I can't help but feel a profound sense of gratitude for his unwavering support. In his presence, the turmoil of my mind begins to subside, replaced by a glimmer of hope and reassurance.

“You’re a woman of integrity and you shouldn’t lower yourself by doing sexual favours or whatever to get what you want; excellent work and determination is what will get things going,” he explains.

As Ashby's lips meet mine in a tender kiss, a rush of emotions floods through me, catching me off guard. His touch is gentle yet firm, his warmth enveloping me in a cocoon of comfort. In that moment, all my worries and fears seem to melt away, replaced by a newfound sense of clarity and connection.

I respond to his kiss with a mixture of surprise and longing, my heart pounding in my chest as our lips move together in perfect harmony. There's an undeniable spark between us, one that ignites a flame of desire deep within my soul.

As the kiss deepens, I find myself losing track of time, lost in the intoxicating sensation of Ashby's embrace. His touch is electrifying, sending shivers down my spine, and setting my heart ablaze with passion.

For a moment, the world fades away, leaving only Ashby and I in our own little bubble of bliss. In his arms, I feel safe and cherished, free to let go of all my inhibitions and fears.

But as the kiss ends, reality comes crashing back in, leaving me breathless and uncertain of what just transpired. I pulled away slightly, my eyes searching for answers, for reassurance.

"Ashby..." I murmur softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

But before I can find the words to express the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me, Ashby cups my cheeks in his hands once more, his gaze locking with mine in a silent promise of understanding and support.

"Penny..." he begins, his voice filled with sincerity and affection.