Penelope Davis, a beautiful and innocent girl, was born and raised in a wealthy family. She had everything-caring parents and a supportive sister-except for the love of the man she adored. She believed she had him, until the day she discovered he ha...
I woke up with a throbbing headache and an aching body, as if I'd been trampled by a stampede. My eyes felt swollen, and when I opened them, the dull light filtering through the curtains did nothing to help. I blinked, my vision blurry, only to realize I'd slept on the floor. On the floor.
With a groan, I pushed myself up, every muscle protesting the movement. My clothes from last night clung to my skin, wrinkled and uncomfortable, a painful reminder of my breakdown. I glanced around the room-it was a mess. Pillows scattered, the blanket half-draped over a chair, my duffle bag upended on the floor, clothes spilling out.
God. What a disaster.
I ran my hand over my face, feeling the dried tears and puffiness under my eyes. Get it together, Penelope. I had to leave for the airport in an hour, and here I was, still in last night's dress and emotional wreckage. No time to fall apart again.
I forced myself to my feet, wincing at the stiffness in my limbs, and stumbled into the bathroom. The warm water from the shower was a temporary relief, washing away the remnants of last night's pain but doing nothing to untangle the mess of thoughts in my head. I scrubbed at my skin, as if I could wash away the memories of dancing with Sean, the near-kiss, the what ifs that had haunted me long into the night. But it didn't work. It never worked.
After the shower, I dried off and quickly packed my things, shoving clothes into my duffle bag with more force than necessary. Everything felt rushed, disorganized, like I was running away from the chaos I'd let myself fall into. I need to focus. Just get through today. That's all that mattered-getting back to L.A. and putting this entire trip behind me.
I pulled on a soft off-white sweater dress, the fabric hugging my skin just enough to feel comforting, and threw a beige overcoat over it. The black boots were a practical choice, sturdy and grounding, something to keep me from spiraling again. As I let my hair fall loose around my shoulders, I caught my reflection in the mirror-and nearly recoiled.
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My eyes were so red, puffy and rimmed with exhaustion. No amount of concealer could hide that. I sighed, digging through my bag for my sunglasses. The large frames hid the worst of it, thankfully, and with one last glance in the mirror, I grabbed my handbag and duffle and headed for the lobby.
The cold morning air hit me as soon as I stepped outside my room. It was biting, sharp, the kind that seeped into your bones and made everything feel just a little heavier. I was already on edge, and this just added to it. But I kept moving, focusing on the rhythm of my boots clicking against the polished floors as I made my way downstairs.
And there he was. Sean. Standing in the lobby in his usual calm, composed posture, wearing one of his impeccably tailored three-piece suits. He looked... perfect. Of course, he did. Not a hair out of place, not a trace of the chaos that had torn through me last night. Anger rose in me, swift and hot. I hated that he could stand there so composed while I was still unraveling inside. But mixed with that anger was guilt-guilt for still feeling anything at all for him, for almost letting myself fall into his orbit again last night.
