Page 15 of A Cobbled Conspiracy
“I’m sure we’ll see each other around the district,” Victor said smoothly, but there was steel underneath the politeness. “It’s such a small community, after all.”
After they left, silence settled over the shop like dust. Penny slumped against my workbench, all his nervous energy draining away at once.
“Okay,” I said gently. “What the hell was that about?”
Penny was quiet for so long I thought he wasn’t going to answer. Then, in a voice much smaller than his usual animated projection, he said, “Remember when you and Dominic were… busy… for those three days after the auction?”
“Yes.” I’d thought about it every day and night since.
“Sebastian won me at the auction. Fair and square.” Penny’s fingers worried at his pendant. “I figured it was just obligation,you know? Go to dinner, be polite, fulfill the charity commitment.”
I waited, sensing there was more.
“But Sebastian was actually… interesting. Charming, intelligent, asked real questions about my business and fashion interests instead of just making small talk.” Penny’s voice grew softer. “I started thinking maybe this open marriage thing worked differently than I imagined. Maybe married alphas in open relationships were more mature, less possessive.”
“What happened?”
Penny’s scent suddenly turned bitter with the memory. “Victor showed up at the restaurant. Just appeared at our table like some kind of avenging angel. Started making loud comments about ‘boundary issues’ and ‘omegas who don’t understand their place.’”
My protective instincts flared. “In public?”
“The whole restaurant was staring.” Penny’s hands shook as he picked up his tea to take a sip. “I didn’t even know what he meant at first—I wasn’t trying to steal anyone’s husband! But he looked at me like I was some homewreaker…”
He lowered the paper cup to the counter. His palms curved around it, drawing whatever heat still radiated through the thin walls into his skin. “Sebastian put me in a taxi, said he had to ‘handle Victor,’ and that was it.”
“Penny, I’m so sorry.”
“The worst part?” Penny groaned, slumping against my workbench as if the weight of the memory was physically crushing him . “I got one text later. Sebastian apologizing forVictor’s ‘jealousy issues,’ like that explains public humiliation! Like I should just accept being publicly torn apart in a restaurant because their marriage has problems?”
“You think he purposely followed you guys to the restaurant to make a scene?” I asked.
Penny considered this, his natural intuition cutting through emotional complications. “Maybe? I think it’s about control, though. About keeping tabs on what Sebastian is doing, who he’s seeing.” He looked at me seriously. “And maybe punishing me for existing in Sebastian’s orbit.”
He sniffed, waving a hand dismissively. “They’ve both got issues, if you ask me.”
I felt my protective instincts flare, ready to launch into reassurances or plans to confront Victor, but Penny suddenly straightened up and fluffed his pink hair with his characteristic dramatic flair.
“But honestly? Good riddance!” He brushed imaginary dust off his vintage jacket with exaggerated precision. “We don’t have time to be worrying about territorial alpha nonsense when there are actual problems to solve. Dominic’s locked up, someone’s targeting our district, and I’m supposed to be upset because some control freak can’t handle his husband having dinner with other people?”
The shift in his tone was so quintessentially Penny that I almost laughed despite everything. Here was my friend who could turn choosing a tea or coffee blend into a theatrical production, dismissing genuine relationship drama as beneath his notice.
“You’re right,” I said, feeling some of the tension leave my shoulders. “We have bigger things to worry about.”
“Exactly.” Penny picked up his tea with renewed energy. “We’re going to prove Dominic’s innocence and probably save the entire Historical District while we’re at it.”
He paused, then added with a graceful flourish of his hand that sent the silver bangles on his wrist dancing, “All while looking fabulous, naturally.”
Despite everything, I found myself smiling. Yeah, he was right. We could handle whatever came next.
CHAPTER FIVE
Blake’s living room had been transformed into something that looked like a detective show set. Cork boards lined one wall, covered with photographs, newspaper clippings, and hand-drawn maps connected by Penny’s red string, creating a web of relationships and timeline connections. The glass coffee table was buried under stacks of photocopied documents, architectural plans, and mine and Penny’s notebooks, filled with four weeks of research.
Four weeks. Twenty-eight days since Dominic’s arrest, and my body was still in the throes of insurgency.
I pressed my hand to my stomach as another wave of nausea rolled through me. This morning had been the worst yet. I’d barely made it to Blake’s pristine guest bathroom before my body rejected what little I’d managed to eat for breakfast. The bond separation symptoms should have been getting better by now, not worse.
“Explain the color system,” Blake said, studying our handiwork with the kind of intense focus he probably usually reserved for corporate mergers.