Page 130 of The Bad Wedding Date

Dad, however, hadn’t noticed the brown-nosing, and his curiosity peaked. “That’s a bold claim to make. I hope you have proof.”

“Me, too,” I said, tilting my head to the side.

Penn’s grip on his glass grew tighter. He didn’t have shit, and he knew it.

“Like I said, call it instinct,” Penn said tightly.

“I didn’t get that same impression from him,” Dad said, his tone casual, as though the two people beside him weren’t throwing subtle daggers at one another. “In fact, I thought quite the opposite. I even admitted as much to Charlotte the other day.”

That angered Penn even further, which only made my smile more genuine as I looked at him.

“Lucky for you, I’m not here to discuss Fraser,” I said, bringing Dad’s attention back to me as I focused on my ex. “I’m here to thankyou, Penn.”

He scowled. “Thank me for what?”

“For everything you’ve done for me.” I leaned over to retrieve my bag from the floor by my feet, pulling it up onto the sofa. The brown envelope poked out from the top, and I carefully teased it out of the bag. Both men looked at it before looking at me in question, and without saying a word, I pulled the first picture out featuring the two men that Penn hired to scare me. Their faces were battered and bruised, one looking slightly worse than the other as they stood against a black wall, side by side, staring into the camera without expression.

I slid it across the marble table, watching as Penn took it in, his face growing tense and pale, while my father’s grew even more confused.

“I thought it was really sweet of you to hire these two men to watch my every move like you did,” I said, somehow keeping my voice calm.

Penn looked up, his murderous eyes catching mine.

“And even sweeter that you didn’t let anyone know you were doing so.”

“What’s going on?” Dad asked, an edge to his voice. I couldn’t blame him. The men in the picture didn’t look like the kind of men who would keep a woman safe. If anything, they looked like part of the mob, and Penn’s guilty face didn’t help his case, either.

“Oh, didn’t you know, Daddy?” I asked sweetly, turning to him with a face of innocence. “Penn paid these two men to follow me. In fact, one time they got a little too close, and almost ran me over in the middle of the road.” I smiled, full of sarcasm, before I turned back to my delightful ex. “Isn’t that right, Penn?”

All the colour drained from his face.

“Penn?” Dad said sternly. “Is this true?”

Penn stood abruptly, running a hand over his dry mouth with his other hand on his hip. The guy had hit panic mode, and I took great delight in every second of it.

Dad stood too, dropping his glass to the coffee table in case Penn tried to flee. “I think you need to tell me what the hell has been going on here,” he said, the threat clear.

Pulling out the other pictures that Fraser had got the two men to hand over on their camera, I placed them all on the table, pushing them around so each of them were clear.

Fraser and me in Covent Garden.

Fraser and me walking into our bookstore.

Fraser and me outside my apartment.

Fraser and me walking into a hotel.

Me alone walking the streets of London.

My face moments before they’d sped past me in their BMW, scaring me for fun.

Pictures of my apartment being invaded, including pictures of my underwear drawer—images that had initially turned my stomach at first sight and threatened to make me vomit again.

Dad took each picture in, his face growing angrier by the second.

I remained sitting on the sofa, as casual as ever.

“It seemed Penn had my best interests at heart so much, he hired two thugs to break into my apartment, tear through my belongings, and leave a warning behind them. Isn’t that right, Penn? A smashed framed picture of Fraser and me sitting next to a very threatening looking knife.”

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