Finally back in London, Penelope made her way to her favorite coffee shop for her usual latte before work. The morning air was brisk, and she shuttered, pulling her jacket tighter over her waist as a gust of wind blew past her.
She nodded her thanks to the tall, dark haired stranger who held open the door for her, then stopped and waited in line for the counter. As three people in front of her placed their orders, the man stepped behind her, shooting her an uncomfortably intense stare.
Penelope decided to ignore him, focusing instead on what she was supposed to do about Colin Bridgerton. He'd already agreed to do the feature, and normally she was the designated interviewer, but she couldn't bare to face him. Lost in her thoughts, she felt a tap on her shoulder.
"Sorry," she squeaked upon realizing she was holding everyone up. The lanky man behind her stared back with that same crazed look in his stark blue eyes. She smiled tightly and turned back around, reciting her order to the barista.
"I would like to buy the lass's drink," the man called out in a distinctly Scottish accent. He slapped his gold card on the counter, his chest pressed against her back. The pungent smell of his cologne invaded her senses.
Penelope's eyes widened, unsure what she should do. She'd never been terribly good at confrontation, and especially not at saying no when she ought to. She giggled politely, sliding his card back to him and putting space between them. "Thank you, sir, but I'm alright."
"I insist, love," he said, sliding the card back to the barista. She could swear she heard him sniff her hair as he leaned over.
He wasn't unattractive by any means, but she was not in the mood to get hit on. Her smile tightened again and her shoulders tensed.
"That's kind of you sir, but no thank you," she persisted, trying to remain courteous, but he was getting on her nerves.
"Please, love, allow me."
Now Penelope was annoyed. She clearly wasn't interested. What was this guy's problem? "Sir, I said no. Now please, give me my space."
"Love, let me buy you a cup. How else can I show you that my heart is yours?"
Penelope scoffed. Love? His heart? She literally just met this man. He didn't even know her name, thank God. "No, now kindly leave me the hell alone," she said firmly, handing the barista her card and grabbing the drink. "Have a nice day," she told the barista, choosing to ignore the man and hope he went away.
"Wait!" He called out as she left and she sped up down the street. "My love, wait!" He yelled and she jogged to the other side to avoid him. She heard a loud crash and whipped around to find the obsessed stranger laying on his back in the road.
"Oh my God!" She exclaimed, rushing over to see if he was okay. "What is the matter with you!" She screamed, smacking him repeatedly upon realizing he was mostly alright.
"Please, my name is John Fife. I came from Italy to find you, my love." The man was clearly a psychopath. She should just leave. "I dream of you, my love. I had to find you to tell you. I love you."
"Love me? I don't know you!" John raised a weak hand to her cheek and Penelope swatted it away, storming off towards her office. What was wrong with the men of the world?
That certainly wasn't the last time Penelope would be harassed that week, unfortunately. A new client, Nigel Berbrooke, requested a meeting with her the very next morning. The results of which were much the same as her coffee shop encounter.
Penelope practically sprinted out of her office building after the pushy redheaded man made several unwanted advances and tried to kiss her neck. She was barely able to catch her breath as she leaned against the door to the back entrance. She looked around frantically for Nigel, worried that he might have somehow found her.
