Penelope's POV
It was past eight when I finally caught sight of Frederick approaching the entrance of Avalynn's. I had been standing there for a while, desperately trying not to look like a complete fool waiting alone outside one of London's most exclusive venues while elegant couples glided past me. My phone had become my security blanket, checked repeatedly.
"Penelope?" he called out hesitantly as he drew near.
"Frederick." I plastered on my brightest smile, though irritation was already bubbling beneath the surface at his tardiness.
"My apologies for being late," he said, running fingers through his hair in what seemed like a well-practiced nervous gesture. "The traffic was absolutely dreadful."
Right away, I noticed something off. He was definitely shorter than advertised. His dating profile claimed six foot one, but he barely reached five seven, even with what were obviously elevator shoes. Height wasn't a dealbreaker, but starting with lies certainly raised red flags.
