Chapter 3 PENELOPE'S POV

I wake up to the sound of my phone buzzing incessantly. Groaning, I fumble for it in the dark, squinting at the too-bright screen. It's Mom. At 5 AM. This can't be good.

"Hello?" I croak, my heart already racing.

"Penny, it's Reece. We're at the hospital."

I bolt upright, sleep forgotten. "What happened? Is she okay?"

"She had another episode. The doctors are running tests now."

I'm already out of bed, searching for clothes. "I'm on my way."

Thirty minutes later, I burst through the hospital doors, my hair a mess and yesterday's mascara smudged under my eyes. Mom's waiting for me in the lobby, looking like she's aged a decade overnight.

"How is she?" I ask, pulling her into a hug.

Mom sighs, her body sagging against mine. "Stable for now. But Penny, the doctors... they're talking about more aggressive treatments."

My stomach drops. More aggressive means more expensive. I close my eyes, thinking of my nearly empty savings account. "We'll figure it out," I say, hoping I sound more confident than I feel.

We make our way to Reece's room. My little sister is propped up in bed, looking pale but managing a weak smile when she sees us.

"Hey, sis," she says. "Sorry for the dramatics. You know how I love to keep things interesting."

I laugh despite myself, perching on the edge of her bed. "You could've just asked for attention like a normal person."

Reece grins. "Where's the fun in that?"

We chat for a while, carefully avoiding the elephant in the room. As a nurse comes in to check Reece's vitals, I pull Mom into the hallway.

"How bad is it?" I ask quietly.

Mom's eyes fill with tears. "The new treatment... it's experimental. Insurance won't cover it." I nod, my mind already racing through possibilities. Pick up more freelance work? Sell the car? Rob a bank?

"I'll handle it," I say firmly. "You focus on taking care of Reece."

Mom squeezes my hand. "You're already doing so much, sweetie. I hate to ask for more." "You're not asking," I remind her. "I'm offering."

As I leave the hospital, the weight of everything settles on my shoulders. I check my watch and groan. I have just enough time to go home, change, and make it to work without being late. Again.

An hour later, I'm power-walking through the Vinz Hotel lobby, praying I don't run into— "Ms. Goodman."

Damn it.

I plaster on a smile and turn to face Vincent Floyd in all his perfectly pressed, annoyingly handsome glory. "Good morning, Mr. Floyd."

His eyes narrow slightly as he takes in my appearance. Great. I knew I forgot something in my rush—concealer. "You look... tired," he says.

"Gee, thanks," I mutter before I can stop myself.

To my surprise, the corners of his mouth twitch. Was that almost a smile? From Vincent 'Ice King' Floyd?

"I trust you're prepared for our site visit next week?" he asks, all business again.

I nod, even as my stomach does a little flip. A whole day alone with Vincent, touring an empty hotel. What could possibly go wrong?

"Of course," I say smoothly. "I have some ideas for the grand opening that I think you'll like." He raises an eyebrow. "I look forward to hearing them."

As he walks away, I can't help but notice the way his tailored suit hugs his broad shoulders. For a moment, I'm transported back to that night two years ago, when those shoulders were bare, hovering above me as we—

Nope. Not going there. I shake my head vigorously, earning a concerned look from Jake at the front desk. I wave him off with what I hope is a reassuring smile, but judging by his frown, I've probably just convinced him I'm having a stroke.

I make my way to my office, collapsing into my chair with a dramatic sigh. My desk is a warzone of event planning materials—color swatches, vendor contracts, and at least three half-empty coffee cups. I eye the newest cup longingly, debating whether day-old coffee is worth the potential stomach ulcer.

Before I can make a decision, my phone buzzes with a text from Mom.

Mom: Reece is asking for you. Can you stop by after work?

I close my eyes, guilt washing over me. I've been so caught up in work and money worries that I haven't visited Reece in days.

Me: Of course. I'll bring her favorite trashy magazines and some contraband chocolate.

Mom: You're a lifesaver. Love you.

Me: Love you too. Kiss Reece for me.

I set my phone down, my resolve strengthened. I have approximately eight hours to come up with a brilliant money-making scheme, nail my work assignments, and mentally prepare myself for a night of hospital chairs and bad TV with Reece. No pressure, right?

The rest of the week passes in a blur of hospital visits, late nights at the office, and frantic Google searches for "how to make money fast without selling a kidney." Before I know it, it's the night before the site visit.

I'm packing my bag when my phone pings with a text from Vincent.

V: I will pick you up at 7 AM sharp. Don't be late.

I roll my eyes. Would it kill him to say please?

P: Wouldn't dream of it, boss.

There's a long pause before he replies.

V: How's your sister?

I stare at the screen, shocked. How does he know about Reece? And more importantly, why does he care?

P: She's... hanging in there. Thanks for asking.

V: If you need anything, let me know.

Okay, who is this pod person and what has he done with the real Vincent Floyd?

P: Thanks. I appreciate it.

I set my phone down, my mind whirling. First the almost-smile, now this? What game is Vincent playing?

As I crawl into bed, I can't shake the feeling that tomorrow's site visit is going to be more than just a work trip. Something's shifting between Vincent and me, and I'm not sure if I'm ready for it.

But ready or not, in less than eight hours, I'll be stuck in a car with my enigma of a boss on our way to an empty hotel where anything can happen.