That had me frowning. “What do you know about Daphne?”
Penelope looked at me curiously. “Mr. Pennington said that she would be staying here at the house with me during the duration of the project. He said that the house was big enough we wouldn’t even notice each other.”
I growled deep in my chest. I had a feeling I knew what was going on. “Did Mr. Pennington,” I said the name with a sneer in my voice. “Say that you would be staying with Daphne specifically? Or did he just mention a roommate?”
“I’m sure he mentioned her,” she said slowly, but I could tell by the slowly dawning shock on her face, that she wasn’t sure.
“Miss Lund, think hard. What did Mr. Pennington say, exactly?”
Penelope released a huge sigh, the color draining from her face as the implication of what was going on hit her too. “Kid,” she said quietly. “He said that his kid would be staying here. But I had assumed…”
“Yeah, well, look what that got you. You know what they say about people who assume things.”
Penelope took a step back, careful this time to avoid the edge of the swimming pool. The last of the sunset was shining over the mountains behind her, casting her in silhouette, so I couldn’t see much, but I noticed when her eyes widened, taking me in again from head to toe. I also noticed how her gaze lingered on my shirtless chest. I guess I wasn’t the only one affected.
She stopped her perusal at my face, squinting at me curiously, before she gasped again. “But, Mr. Montgomery, you’re-”
“Stone Pennington, illegitimate bastard, at your service.” I tipped and imaginary hat for effect, but saying it out loud made my stomach sour.
How I hated calling myself a Pennington.
Penelope stared at me for a moment more, her face moving through a series of rapid emotions before she finally settled on one. It just wasn’t the one I was expecting.
Disgust.
She was looking at me with disgust. Well, fuck her, then. Like I was the only child born out of wedlock to a rich man. I didn’t have a thing to prove to her or anyone.
“You got somethin’ to say, Miss Lund?” I asked stepping into her space, my anger causing me to make stupid choices. I should walk away. I should get out of here and get a hotel somewhere away from her and the damn house.
But my pride wouldn’t let me.
Penelope schooled her features into a polite professional mask before clasping her hands demurely in front of her. Everything about her posture said submissive and meek. Everything in her eyes said she hated my guts.
“Of course not, Mr. Pennington,” she said, every word dripping with acid.
Studying her, I tried to read her face, but she was a closed book, cold and empty. Except for the fire in her eyes.
“You’re determined to stay at this house, then?” I asked. She pursed her lips and nodded, never once looking away from me. “Fine, then the south wing is mine. Stay the hell out.” And with that I turned around and left her standing there, cold and damp, on the deck in the newly gathered dark.
That was good. The darkness outside matched the growing darkness I felt inside me.
I stomped across the house to the central staircase, taking the steps two at a time as I headed for the master bedroom I claimed when I got her earlier. Slamming the door behind me, I snatched my phone up from the dresser where it was charging and dialed a number I rarely ever used.
My father.
It rang and rang. I glanced at the clock. It would be late in New York, but I wasn’t about to hang up. I waited for him to answer, his voice rough from sleep as he did so.
“H-hello? Stone?”
“Yeah,” I said simply.
“It’s good to hear from you, son.”
I chose to ignore the term. Again. Instead I got right to the point.
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me that Penelope was going to be living in the house too?”
“Oh. Yes, that.”
“Yeah. That. What the hell, Harold? I can’t be living here with a member of my executive staff? Why would you send some snotty Manhattan bitch to get in my way?”
“Now, wait just a minute. You have no cause to speak about Penelope that way. She is a lovely girl and she is excellent at her job.”
I scoffed. “You could have fooled me. The girl’s a walking train wreck. A joke from head to toe.”
“Stone, please. Just give her a chance. I know she will succeed at this. I need her to succeed at this.” The desperation in his voice threw me. I didn’t think Harold Pennington ever needed anything he couldn’t get with a snap of his fingers and a flash of his gold card.
“What the hell is so important about her that we can’t have someone else here to do the job? I’ve got three marketing guys in my region who could work circles around this girl.” I really needed her gone. I wasn’t even sure why at this point, but when it came to Penelope Lund, I saw nothing but danger signs.
And those perfect tits.
Shit. This was bad. I needed to hate her, but I couldn’t get her blue eyes out of my head. The way she shot fire at me with every look.
This girl was nothing but trouble.
“I’m sure that Pennington Hotels has a whole array of talented staff in all our departments. However, Miss Lund is there for a reason, Stone. And while I can’t tell you why that is, exactly, I can tell you that she is the only one I want on the Las Vegas start up campaign.”
“That’s a bullshit answer, and you know it.”
“Yes,” he sighed. “It is. And I do know it. But for once in your life, can you please trust me? And believe that I have your best interests at heart? Penelope Lund is perfect right where she is.”
I didn’t like it. At all. But he was the CEO. If this project was going to fail, it was ultimately his name on the building.
And mine, I guess, if we’re getting technical.
Shit.
“Just for the record, I’m against this the entire way.” I stated, wanting to get the last word for some insane and immature reason. Talking to my father always did this to me. Talking to him with Penelope Lund in the same house? I was going off the freakin’ rails.
“Your grievance has been noted,” Harold said with a laugh.
“Fine,” I said, prepared to end the conversation, but as I moved my thumb to the disconnect button, he called my name.
“Stone?” he asked, the hope in his voice making me feel a small measure of guilt.
Very small.
“Yeah?” I replied, trying to soften my tone. Maybe I succeeded.
“Thank you,” Harold said quietly. “I know you will do a great job out there in Las Vegas. I am so proud of the things you have already accomplished. I’m always proud of you, son.”
Clenching my jaw against the strange and raw emotions now hurtling through me, it was a moment before I could speak. When I did, my voice was rough and choked. I hated that, too.
“Yeah,” was all I managed. He was going to have to take it.
“Good night, son,” Harold said, and then he was gone.
I stared at the blank screen of my phone, trying to process the day. There were too many things happening. To many strange events all crammed into twenty-four hours that I couldn’t seem to get a handle on what I was feeling, so I went with what I knew. What I was comfortable with.
Anger.
I was angry that Harold insisted I keep Miss Lund on staff. I was angry that she would be sharing this house with me. I was angry she was apparently good enough at her job that Harold felt he needed her. And I was angry I found her so damn attractive when I was trying so friggin’ hard to hate her.
The whole situation was shit.
Kicking off my jeans, I climbed into the huge bed, set my alarm, and leaned back against the small mountain of pillows that, for some reason, all smelled of the ocean. There wasn’t an ocean around for almost three hundred miles.
Fuckin’ rich people.
Sure, I made good money working for Pennington Hote
ls, but there was something about people who had grown up rich - like, never driving your own car rich - that just rubbed me the wrong way. They didn’t understand struggle. The didn’t know what it was like to sacrifice, to have to put your dreams on hold until you could obtain them the old-fashioned way, through dedication and hard work. Blood, sweat, and tears. That’s what built character. Not trips to Europe and shopping on Madison Avenue.
Sighing, I stared up at the dark ceiling, wishing I was back in Texas. Wishing I was finished with this project and back where I belonged.
The good news was that Silas had messaged me earlier. He would be wrapping up in Austin sooner than anticipated and should be here tomorrow. If anyone could talk me down from this ledge, it was him. I hated to burden my mother with my emotional baggage. Especially after her speech this morning about giving this an honest try.
Rolling over and moving the pillows around - it really was a ridiculous number of pillows for one bed - I resolved to get through this as quickly and efficiently as possible so I could get my ass back to Texas as fast as I could.
I was starting to hate Las Vegas.
CHAPTER SIX
Penelope
“The girl’s a walking train wreck. A joke from head to toe.”
My stomach sank as I heard the words Stone shouted into his phone, clearly not trying at all for discretion. I could only guess that he was talking to Mr. Pennington. His father.
How could it all have gone so wrong so quickly? Of course Stone was Harold’s son. Why would anyone besides his family have a shot at succeeding? It’s not like Stone had worked his ass off to earn a scholarship, then studied every waking minute of his university career because failure was not an option. He was not the one with a mother back home who was counting on every penny he could make to save their home and keep them out of the poor house.
Why would all my effort even matter when all he needed was to have the right parents?
Nepotism. How I hated it.
I couldn’t fault his logic, though; I was a complete mess today. Not even twenty-four hours and I had already pissed off the boss something fierce.
I came in from the back deck, dripping pool water all over the pristine house and headed for the north wing as instructed, gathering up the packages Moira had waiting for me when I arrived and made my way to one of the four bedrooms in the wing.
When the taxi had pulled up to the house in Summerlin, I thought I would be tired enough to just go straight inside to bed. But after a quick glance around I found the entire area so lovely that I had gone for a walk around the neighborhood instead.
The place was just so vastly different from anything I had ever known. The east coast was often gray and dreary, the sun finding it hard to reach the ground between the impossibly high towers of Manhattan. I was used to concrete and steel and glass, shades of gray and black that never really changed.
But Nevada was like an explosion of color. I couldn’t believe all the different shades of red and brown and even green that I saw as I wandered the streets, admiring the low houses with their stucco walls and the terracotta roof tiles. Each house had a yard, which was something else I wasn’t used to. Green space in Manhattan was pretty much non-existent outside Central Park. Even in Queens, where small front yards were more common, the houses were pretty much built right on top of each other. Space was always at a premium.
But as I made my way through the quiet streets of that gorgeous Las Vegas neighborhood, watching the families going about their evening routines and enjoying their time together, I could not get over the amount of open space there was around me. Each house sat separate from the next, with no shared walls between them to listen in on the arguments and too loud TV shows of your neighbors. The yards, while mostly landscaped in a drought resistant fashion, with rocks and shrubs and very little grass, were all done up in a way that was visually appealing, with decorative stones and pieces of art dotted throughout. They all fit the neighborhood aesthetic and everyone tried to maintain the area to the same standard.
The other thing I noticed was that there were barely any vehicles parked on the street. Every home had its own garage, keeping the cars and trucks out of the elements, and housing bikes and other family toys, from the light peeking I’d done into one or two opened bays as I passed.
But the truly amazing thing, the thing that I kept returning to again and again, was the sky. There was just so much of it. I was used to small glimpses of the sky, stealing moments between tall towers and subway stations. I hadn’t realized how incredible the sky was until I came to Nevada. If I turned down the any street, I could find a place that was open, leaving nothing between me and that impossibly blue expanse but my own inability to fly.
The neighborhood was surrounded by a group of low hills, and while I didn’t know their names, I couldn’t wait to get a closer look at them. I figured hiking might be something I might like to try. After all, it’s not like I had any friends to spend time with out here. I might as well start becoming one with nature.
My mother would be impressed by my adventurous spirit.
When I returned to the house where the cab left me earlier, I slowly wandered up the driveway, wondering again how I ended up here. The largest house in the neighborhood, and I had the key.
Stepping through the door was like entering another world entirely. The whole house was done in a warm tan, with light tiles on the floor, cream walls, and dark wood accents. The living room had a huge and comfy looking brown leather couch with enough room to hold fifteen people, while the kitchen was a glowing mix of white granite and stainless-steel appliances. But it was the glass wall at the back that caught my eye.
A pool. An entire swimming pool, and, for this moment at least, it was just for me.
I set the packages down, not caring one whit about what was inside them, and made my way to the back door, noticing it was unlocked, but not thinking about why that would be strange. I walked right up to the edge of the pool, taking in the breathtaking view of the canyons and hills, and felt my soul lighten. This was what I needed tonight. I moment to breathe.
From the second my mother burst in to my room this morning, it had been nothing but chaos. I hadn’t had a second to catch up.
But here, with the sky an endless blue stretch above my head, I could feel like maybe things weren’t so bad.
Maybe, just maybe, I could actually pull this off.
Bending down, I trailed my fingers through the sparkling waters of the pool, sighing at the cool water and looking forward to taking my first swim as soon as possible. Suddenly, a noise caught my attention. Realizing I wasn’t alone, I stood up and spun around to see who was behind me, and my heart raced, adrenaline pumping double time as I saw a huge man, standing in the shadows.
Being a New York girl, I knew that when a man creeps up behind you, it never meant anything good. I had only a heartbeat to register the massive shoulders and dark hair, instinct causing me to take an involuntary step back, away from my would-be attacker.
That was when I got my wish.
A swim.
So now here I stood, in a bedroom I wasn’t familiar with, in a house I wasn’t wanted in, on a job I had no chance of succeeding at, no matter how hard I worked or how well I performed, and I was wondering what I was even doing with my life.
Wandering into the massive bathroom, with its smoke gray granite and shower big enough for a family of five to live in, I caught sight of myself in the mirror.
Train wreck, indeed. My blonde hair was plastered to my head, my face was splotchy, and my eyes were red, both from anger and the chlorine. My shirt, still sporting the coffee stain, was now well and truly ruined, and it would probably take the jaws of life to pry the wet skinny jeans off my behind.
But underneath all that mess, I was still me. I was still Penelope Lund, daughter of two blue-collar workers. Parents who, through their hard work and sacrifice, were the back bone of America. Without people like us, the Pennington family would never h
ave made it to where they were today. I was still the girl who made it to the top of her class at NYU on her own merit, and who worked her way to the top of the marketing department in record time.
I had value. I had pride. And I had earned everything I had gained along the way.
So Stone and Toddrick and Constance and every other silver spoon, prep school, yacht club, trust fund jerk could take their nepotism and shove it!
That job was mine.
* * * *
My alarm went off. I triple checked it this time.
Still, I woke up every hour or so all night long, just to be sure.
Today was a brand-new day, and I was going to make the most of it.
Hopping out of bed, I entered the bathroom and enjoyed every inch of that giant shower. I scrubbed from head to toe, headed back to the bedroom to see what Moira had provided for me.
It was as bad as I had anticipated. The names on the clothes were ones I only ever saw in store windows and on Kardashian Instagram pages. But still, I had no other option.
Selecting what I thought was the simplest and therefore least expensive option, I packaged the rest up again. I would have Moira return them later today. There was no need for all those things when my own clothes could be arriving any day now.
At least, I hoped they would be arriving.
But even if I never saw my suitcase again, I could go shopping and find some reasonable items to wear. I would lament the loss of the Jimmy Choo pumps, though. I frowned, wishing I had taken the time to at least try them on when mom presented them to me yesterday.
Putting on the plain black dress pants and simple pale blue button up blouse, I finished my hair and used the mascara and lip gloss that was included with the other items. I refused to use any of the other make up, however. I thought sixty-three dollars an ounce was a ridiculous amount of money to pay for foundation. I simply couldn’t bring myself to even open it.
Sliding my feet back into the flats I had worn from Queens, I squared my shoulders, took a deep breath, and made my way out of the room and back down stairs to the kitchen.
The Cowboy and the Bombshell Page 6