Chapter 35

The morning after brought a splitting headache.

Penelope shook her head a few times, trying to clear the fog. When she finally managed to open her eyes, she found herself on a massive hotel bed, tied up with what felt like strips of fabric.

Panic surged through her. She struggled to sit up, but her hands and feet were bound, rendering her immobile.

What happened last night? She remembered a man dragging her into this room, throwing her onto the bed, and then... looming over her.

Oh God. Had she been...?

She couldn't bear to complete the thought. She thrashed wildly, trying to break free, but the knots held fast.

"You bastard! Just you wait! I'm going to kill you!" she screamed. The burst of anger seemed to clear her head slightly.

She realized she was tied up with bedsheets. They couldn't be that secure. Taking deep breaths, she managed to work her hands behind her back and began to patiently pick at the knots. After fifteen sweaty, frustrating minutes, she was finally free. Without pausing to catch her breath, she grabbed her purse, dug out her phone, and prepared to call the police.

But then she noticed what she was wearing: a man's white shirt.

Well, it wasn't exactly white anymore. It was covered in lipstick stains.

A memory surfaced. She was tugging at a man's shirt, demanding he take it off.

"This is mine! It's my princess dress! You thief, give it back!"

Penelope cringed. Was that really her? Could she have actually done something so mortifying?

The next memory was even clearer. The man, looking utterly exasperated, tried to push her away. She had leaped onto him, wrapping her arms around his neck and planting messy, lipstick-smeared kisses all over his pristine white shirt.

"See? I told you it was my princess dress! Here's the proof!"

He pushed her off, she jumped back on. Finally, defeated, he had taken off the shirt and given it to her. She had then proceeded to joyfully change into it,

stripping off her own clothes right in front of him.

"Isn't my princess dress beautiful?"

She had twirled on the bed, showing it off. When the man remained silent, she had pounced on him again cupping his face in her hands and trying to pry his lip's apart.

"Say it! Tell me this princess is the most beautiful woman in the world!"

And then... he had tied her up.

The memory ended with the image of his thunderous expression, a look that said he wanted to murder her.

Penelope slowly covered her face with her hands. How could she have been so humiliating? She couldn't call the police. She could only pray he didn't call them on her

As she replayed the scene, she realized the man's face was familiar. She'd seen him somewhere before.

In the car, Theodore's assistant

glanced at his boss's storm-cloud face and shivered. Who on earth had managed to piss him off this badly? So badly that he'd had to make a late-night trip off the island just to bring back a change of clothes. The assistant remembered finding his boss wrapped in a bath towel, his face a mixture of black fury and red embarrassment, looking like he'd just been thoroughly manhandled.

Theodore felt like last night had been a nightmare. How could such a crazy woman exist? He tried to contain his anger, but he couldn't. He called Mr. Johnson.

"That woman," he growled into the phone. "I don't want her."

There was a long pause on the other end, then a small, suppressed sound. "Why not?"

"She's a lunatic when she drinks!"

"Oh."

"Don't even think about trying to make me marry her!"

"Oh."

"Old man, don't you dare play dumb with me. You have no idea how furious I am right now."