Eight
Penelope wasn’t aware the charity dinner Zach invited her to would be at his parents’ home. Until they pulled into the long driveway, fountains flanking either side, the grass mowed into an artistic crisscross pattern.
The house was gargantuan. She hadn’t been joking about seeing it online, but one couldn’t fathom thirty-seven thousand square feet until looking right at it. The place was like its own city.
“Wow,” she murmured, gripping her wrap and clutch. “This is impressive.”
From beside her in the back of the limo, Zach emitted a noncommittal grunt.
“Did you grow up in this house?”
“No. They bought this place about seven or eight years ago. We grew up in a big house, but not this big.”
The driver pulled to a stop and an attendant in a fine tuxedo opened the limo door for her. She accepted his offered hand, stepped out and transferred that hand to Zach.
“You’ve done this before,” he commented. His tux was like the one he’d worn to Chase’s birthday party, but he’d chosen an all-black ensemble: shirt and bowtie included. The darkness made his golden skin, bright green eyes and hair in need of a trim stand out in tantalizing contrast.
“Keep looking at me like that,” he murmured into her hair, “and I’ll have to show you to one of the many private bedrooms.”
She should scold him but couldn’t. Finding a bedroom sounded, well...lovely.
The charity function was being held in the house’s ballroom on the far east side—or as Pen liked to think of it, “left.” They joined the well-dressed throngs clicking through the marble hallways and stopping to admire what had to be million-dollar-plus paintings and sculptures dotting the long corridor.
“Pretentious, right?” Zach muttered, earning a gasp from an older woman whose gray curls were piled on top of her head.
Pen swallowed the laugh pushing against her throat. If that older woman knew who Zach was would she be more or less offended?
It wasn’t until they entered the ballroom where the silent auction was underway that the butterflies in Pen’s tummy took flight. Right at the same moment her date said...
“There’s my mom.”
His mom. As in a mom. As in what Penelope would soon be—or was now, depending on when one started counting. She might start hyperventilating.
“Before I forget...” Zach stepped in her line of vision, taking it up with his fine attire and gorgeous self. “This is for you.”
He reached into his pocket and light winked off a small metal object—okay, now she was going to hyperventilate.
He slid the band onto the third finger of Pen’s left hand, a massive square-cut diamond in the center of an army of smaller diamonds. She...gaped. The ring was stunningly beautiful, and would likely require stronger biceps in order to hold her arm up while wearing it.
“Zach.” Her gasp was muted, and then vanished altogether, when he lifted her knuckles and placed a kiss on them and the ring.
“Can’t look engaged without the ring, now, can you?” His dimple made a brief appearance.
“I suppose not.”
“Let’s say hello.” He offered his right arm and Pen looped her left hand around his elbow, trying hard not to stare at the blinding facets winking up at her.
“Eleanor Ferguson,” he said when he reached his mother. “I have someone I’d like you to meet.”
Eleanor turned, her martini balanced between manicured pink nails and a few stunning rings of her own, all diamond-encrusted and throwing off nearly as much light as Penelope’s. Her blond hair was coiffed and stylish with warm honey highlights.
“Penelope, I presume.”
Pen nodded.
“Please, call me Elle. It’s wonderful to meet the woman who stole Zach’s heart.” There was nothing disingenuous about her smile, but Pen still felt as if the woman’s reaction was a touch insincere.
“Heavens, Zach. Renaldo did well.” Elle lifted Pen’s left hand and examined the engagement ring. “Renaldo is our family jeweler. He’s the best.” She slid the pad of her thumb over the diamonds. “Perfect fit, too. A little wiggle room is always nice in case you eat too much salt.”