Penelope's POV
Thursday had already declared war on me before I even made it out of bed. My phone sat silent where my alarm should have screamed, leaving me scrambling thirty minutes behind schedule. The empty milk carton in my fridge sealed my fate for a bitter, black coffee morning. By the time I stumbled into the office, I thought the worst was behind me.
Then Bernie appeared at my desk at half past three, his expression all business as he scooped up folders from my workspace.
"I need you with me for a client meeting at Larsen & Associates," he said, already reaching for his jacket. "They've got a wine distribution setup in St. Albans and want exclusive rights to our Puregrape line for rural markets."
My eyes darted to the wall clock. Three thirty. Lloyd expected me in Covent Garden at seven, and St. Albans sat more than an hour outside London's reach.
"Today?" The desperation leaked through despite my best efforts. "What about tomorrow?"
