Chapter 63

Penelope was biding her time, waiting for the crowd around Theodore to disperse so she could dive back into her pitch. Whether he listened or not, she was determined to say her piece.
Suddenly, a hand gripped her shoulder.
Startled, she turned to see Zebulon.
“Go sit in the back. Stop embarrassing yourself here,” he hissed, leaning down to speak quietly.
Penelope’s brow furrowed. Who the hell did he think he was, talking to her like that?
“What’s so embarrassing about me sitting in my assigned seat?”
“You’re only sitting here because of your connection to the Sullivans!”
“Oh, really?” she scoffed. “If I’m riding your coattails, why am I sitting up front while you’re stuck in the back?”
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“So hurry up and give me my seat back!”
Penelope was speechless. He wanted her to give him the seat? He actually believed this was his spot? The arrogance was astounding.
“Zebulon, there are too many people here. I don’t want to make a scene,” Penelope said coldly, especially since she had important business to attend to.
But Zebulon wouldn’t let it go. He actually tried to pull her out of the chair. A surge of anger shot through Penelope, and she jabbed him with her elbow, breaking his grip.
“Penelope!”
Zebulon growled and reached for her arm again, but this time, Theodore, who had been sitting beside her, turned his head and looked at him.
His expression was neutral, yet Zebulon felt an unmistakable chill—a silent warning. He instinctively pulled his hand back.
“Mr. Sullivan, what are you doing standing here? Lost your seat? It’s right over there,” Michael said, appearing with a smile. He gestured toward the Sullivans’ table while gently steering Zebulon away.
“Penelope is just a low-level employee from our company. It’s not appropriate for her to sit here,” Zebulon insisted.
“Nonsense, she’s a beautiful woman. A beautiful woman belongs wherever she wants to sit.”
“She should still sit in the back.”
“And leave an empty seat here?”
“I was hoping to get acquainted with Mr. Stapleton.”
“I’m afraid that wouldn’t be appropriate for you, Mr. Sullivan.”
The rejection was blunt and utterly dismissive. Zebulon’s face darkened, and he stalked back to his family’s table, seething.
Seeing his son return empty-handed, Mr. Sullivan scowled. “Completely useless, all of you.”
The insult stung Rebecca as well, and she shot a venomous glare at Penelope’s back.
Finally, the banquet began. The host took the stage, and the crowd around Theodore dispersed.
Penelope, stuck at the front, couldn’t even whisper to him without being obvious. She had no choice but to wait.
After the host came the
shareholders. of LnF Group. After the shareholders came Michael. After Michael came the CEO. An hour of speeches crawled by before the reception officially started and employees took the stage to perform.
Now’s my chance, Penelope thought. But when she turned, Theodore was gone.
She rolled her eyes in frustration. If an opportunity didn’t present itself, she’d have to create one. Grabbing two glasses of wine, she shippedout of the hall to find him.
She found him on the outdoor terrace, but someone had beaten her to it.
A stunning woman, swaying her hips, approached Theodore with two glasses of wine and offered him one.
Theodore glanced at the glass, not even bothering to look at the woman, and said a single word: “No.”
The rejection was swift. The woman simply shrugged and walked away. As she passed Penelope, she noticed the two glasses in her hands and gave her a knowing, cynical smile.
She didn’t say a word, but Penelope understood the message perfectly: He shot me down, what makes you think you have a chance?