Page 9 of Dirty Billionaire

Then I’m going to return the favor.

CHAPTER THREE

WARD

I SIP MY WHISKY ASI watch Penelope step into the venue. Then almost choke.

My fucking god.

I’ve seen her naked, with candlelight flickering over her beautiful olive skin, but still the sight of her tonight takes my breath away.

“You all right, Montgomery?” A guy slaps me on the back.

I lift a napkin to my lips and follow her with my eyes as she walks into the black-tie fundraiser. Her long, black, figure-hugging dress shimmers in the low light, the curves of her breasts perfect.

Motherfucker.

It’s backless and finishes just above the round of her smooth bottom. Vintage Chanel.

I should know. I’m in the fashion industry.

Iamthe fucking fashion industry.

Penelope’s family comes from old money, and when I learned who she was the night we met, I expected the opposite of what I found. Her long dark hair, bright green eyes, and slim figuremake her attractive, but it’s what’s underneath that intrigues me.

“So, let me try to understand this. You think you can change the way people shop and eat via this program?” I asked after she’d shared the workings of the animal welfare charity she ran.

“Not at all. Consumers themselves will,” Penelope replied. “We’re not asking them to change their diets, simply the product they choose.”

I tilted my head. “Explain.”

Comfortable in her own skin, Penelope accepted another flute of champagne as the server passed and took a sip, in no hurry to answer.

I liked that.

A lot.

“Well, our job is to educate them via marketing that the logo on the chicken or eggs, for example, means the animals lived a happy life. Simply put. They can then choose those eggs or the product where the layer hens lived in cages.”

“So no cages?”

“No cages at all in our standards. They are cruel,” she replied firmly. “It’s a win-win for everyone. The farmers choosing to care more for their animals get more business, more animals live happier lives, and consumers don’t have to spend hours trying to figure out which one is the best.”

I thought about standing in the grocery aisle myself searching for free-range eggs.

“Isn’t it just looking for free range?”

“God no. That’s just another marketing term. There is no legal definition.”

My brows lifted.

“Most people would be horrified if they saw the conditions some animals lived in. This way, our auditors check on themregularly and we can trust the blue heart logo on the packaging represents a good choice.”

“So, farmers pay for the use of the brand.” I nodded.

“It covers the auditing, marketing, and administration. We are non-profit, remember?”

I couldn’t fault it personally.

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