Chapter 4 - The Boardroom and the BeastWithin three months, Penelope’s life had undergone a tectonic shift.
She no longer scrubbed tables or dodged managerial insults. She sat in a corner office on the forty-fourth floor of the Nakamura Tower, reviewing multi-million-dollar shipping manifests, corporate acquisitions, and security audits. Her desk was mahogany; her view was the entire skyline of Chicago; and her voice carried weight in executive meetings where grown men trembled when Cassian raised an eyebrow.
Yet, high society was a venomous beast.
Word had leaked out through the corporate grapevine about the "curvy former waitress" whom Cassian Nakamura had plucked from obscurity and installed on the executive floor. To the old-money families of Chicago—families who had spent decades trying to court Cassian for their daughters—Penelope was an interloper, a working-class nobody who didn't belong in their pristine social circles.
The ultimate test came in late November: the annual Winter Charity Gala hosted by the Chicago Philharmonic at the Gold Coast Ballroom.
Cassian had informed her a week prior that she would be attending as his date—not as an employee, not as an assistant, but explicitly as his partner.
When Penelope descended the marble staircase of the ballroom on Cassian’s arm, wearing a custom-designed midnight-blue velvet gown that accentuated her curves with regal elegance, the entire room went dead silent.
Flashbulbs popped like lightning storms. Reporters muttered into microphones.
And standing near the champagne fountain, looking like a queen ready for execution, was Eleanor Vance—socialite, daughter of a railroad magnate, and the woman the Chicago tabloids had spent two years pairing with Cassian Nakamura.
Eleanor glided across the floor, her diamond-encrusted silver dress shimmering under the chandeliers, a brittle, poison-laced smile stretched across her face.
“Cassian, darling,” Eleanor purred, ignoring Penelope entirely as she stepped close to the syndicate boss, resting a manicured hand on his sleeve. “We’ve been looking all over for you. And... oh. Who is your little project tonight? Did the catering service run out of staff again?”
The insult hung in the air, sharp and deliberate. Several nearby socialites snickered behind their champagne flutes.
Penelope felt the old, familiar heat rise in her cheeks. For a split second, the insecurity of the waitress tried to drag her down.
Before she could speak, Cassian moved.
He didn't raise his voice. He didn't smile. With slow, deliberate precision, he reached down, unclipped Eleanor’s hand from his sleeve as if she were a dirty rag, and stepped back.
“Eleanor,” Cassian said, his voice carrying clearly across the silent ballroom. “Let me introduce you properly. This is Penelope Hart. She is my chief operations auditor, my equal in every corporate venture I oversee, and the future Mrs. Nakamura.”
The ballroom sucked in its breath so sharply it sounded like a collective gasp.
Eleanor’s face drained of every drop of color. Her jaw went slack. “Your... your what? Cassian, you can’t be serious! She’s just a fat-waisted commoner who used to serve soup! She doesn't have a pedigree, she doesn't have family money—she’s a nobody!”
Cassian’s eyes turned into shards of black ice.
“A nobody,” Cassian repeated softly, stepping forward until Eleanor was forced to retreat. “Let me remind you, Eleanor, whose father’s railway shipping contracts were audited and canceled last month for money laundering. Shall I remind the room how close your family is to total financial ruin?”
Eleanor whimpered, taking two desperate steps backward and melting into the crowd as horrified guests parted around her like the Red Sea.
Cassian turned back to Penelope, his expression softening instantly as he offered her his arm.
“Shall we dance, my love?” he asked quietly.
May you like
Penelope looked up into his dark, unwavering eyes, a slow, triumphant smile spreading across her face. She placed her hand in his.
“Lead the way, Cassian,” she whispered.
