Chapter Text
“You’re blonde,” Eloise exclaimed when Penelope arrived at the cruise terminal where the Bridgerton and Sharpe families were waiting for her.
“You’re observant,” Pen replied with a chuckle as she shifted her carry-on and purse on her shoulder so that she could lean in and hug her best friend while still holding the handle of her suitcase.
Eloise hugged her back and pulled away, brushing her hands through Penelope’s blonde curls as she did so. “I don’t see you for three whole days and you dye your hair. What would you have done if I’d been gone a week? Get a tattoo?”
Pen laughed at her friend, who loved to be dramatic, and said, “Who says I haven’t?”
Eloise chuckled and bumped elbows with Theo in a get a load of her motion, which had him laughing, too. Her other best friend (and editor) reached out and pulled her into his embrace. Theo squeezed her hard, whispered, “Hey, Red,” in her ear, and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “How was your flight?”
Penelope pulled back, but stayed in his arms. “Not bad.”
Theo ruffled her hair like he always did. “That’s a ringing endorsement if I’ve ever heard one.”
Penelope snorted. “Well, not all of us have private jets to fly us anywhere we want at the drop of a hat. So, I consider any flight without delays, screaming babies, or emergency landings to be not bad.”
Pen and Theo shared a commiserative glance as two upper middle-class kids, while Anthony, Eloise’s brother scoffed and rolled his eyes at her comment. Anthony Bridgerton was the CEO of the multi-national Bridgerton Corporation and a real-life billionaire with a private plane. The man probably hadn’t traveled commercially, let alone as a passenger in coach, in years.
Eloise smiled and looked over her shoulder at him. When she turned back to face her, El stage whispered, “Ixnay on the insultsyay. You’ll make him cranky.”
Pen glanced behind El to the scowling eldest Bridgerton sibling. “He’s always cranky, El. At least my insults give him a reason to be for a change.”
~z~
For the life of him, Anthony Bridgerton couldn’t figure out why Eloise’s friend hated his guts. Yes, he led a privileged life, but he worked his ass off for it.
He had started at Bridgerton Corporation when he turned sixteen and worked his way up from menial positions into a leadership role after finishing college with a business degree. One Ivy League MBA and untimely death (of his father) later, Anthony found himself at the helm of one of the largest corporations in the United States. He had been green but determined and eventually proved himself worthy of the title he held.
Now, at the age of forty, he was finally able to reap the rewards of all his sleepless nights over the last fifteen years. And why shouldn’t he?
What right did she have to judge him when she knew nothing about his life? Just because Penelope was Eloise’s best friend and Colin’s confidant didn’t mean that she had the inside scoop on all things Bridgerton. And certainly not on him, who she barely saw to begin with.
“How much did that dye job set you back?” Anthony asked, casually slipping in beside her as the families entered the double-doors of the crowded terminal. He had a small duffle and laptop case slung over his shoulder and a rolling suitcase behind him, which he purposely bumped into hers once he was next to her. “Or, did you save money by doing it yourself?”
Penelope side-eyed him and huffed. “What’s it to you?” she asked haughtily.
Anthony shrugged. “Not a damn thing,” he replied.
“Then why ask at all?”
“Because we both know the real reason for your sudden makeover,” Anthony answered as he inclined his head toward Colin and his new fiance.
Penelope scoffed. “That’s ridiculous,” she retorted. “I just felt like a change and this seemed like the perfect time.”
Anthony snickered. Then he deadpanned, ”You, Penelope Featherington, girl with a permanent stick up her ass and a yen for routine that goes beyond even mine, decided that a week before my sister’s wedding was the perfect time to make a drastic change to your appearance?” before adding, “Who the fuck are you trying to fool, Red? Me? Or yourself?”
Penelope turned her head to face him full-on and scowled. “You’re unbelievable. You know that?”
Anthony smirked. “Yeah, I do.” He leaned toward her, purposely invading her space, and bragged, “In fact, I get that a lot.”
“Fuck you,” she whispered harshly, blowing out a breath of exasperation and glaring daggers at him.
“Any time, any place, baby,” he replied in a low, gravelly whisper before backing away, winking, and walking ahead of her, enjoying the rewarding sound of her affronted gasp as he did so.