Penelope's POV
The coffee shop I selected carried that unmistakable London atmosphere I found irresistible—rough brick walls, worn wooden surfaces, and the rich scent of roasted beans blending with the gentle hum of morning chatter. Bernie had driven me here before continuing to his office, leaving me with a tender kiss that sent warmth through my veins every time I recalled it.
I had messaged Dominic at dawn, immediately after opening my eyes.
A conversation was necessary, and I wanted neutral territory—somewhere removed from workplace politics and prying gazes. He appeared precisely on schedule, predictably punctual.
"Morning," he said, approaching the window table I had selected overlooking the bustling street.
"Morning, Dominic," I responded, gesturing to the empty chair. "I appreciate you meeting me."
