Chapter Text
Penelope was in the small dining room, her nerves a fluttering mess like a trapped sparrow. She was fussing over the table for what felt like the millionth time, making sure everything was just so. The crystal glasses caught the soft light, the silverware was aligned with military precision, and the white linen tablecloth looked like it had just been ironed by a team of perfectionists. It had to be perfect—she was clinging to the hope that this dinner might patch up the cracks in her relationship with Fife.
When she first met him, Fife had been the epitome of tenderness. But underneath that, there lurked a side that was relentlessly critical. Penelope had convinced herself that this was just his quirky way of showing love and concern. Even when he suggested she lose weight or change something about herself, she thought it was all part of his misguided way of caring. For ages, she tried to morph into what he wanted, believing that if she did, she’d finally get the affection she craved. But their three years together had been mostly devoid of joy. Lately, Fife had grown even more distant.
So one day, Fife stumbled into the world of swinging and it became his new obsession. The idea of swapping partners had become an exciting new horizon for him. Fife’s enthusiasm about this new venture was uncontainable, and he shared it with Penelope, who was initially against it. The idea of sharing her partner was as appealing as a porcupine pillow. But Fife was relentless, insisting that this was exactly what their relationship needed to get a jolt of new energy.
Penelope couldn’t help but feel dubious. How exactly was adding two more people to their relationship supposed to fix anything?
However, Fife had a colleague named Colin Bridgerton, who fancied himself an expert in the swinging scene and suggested they join him and his girlfriend, Sienna, for a night out. Fife was adamant that doing this with someone he knew and trusted would be a surefire success. Penelope, still skeptical, said she needed to mull it over and spent some time contemplating the idea.
While scouring the internet, she’d come across numerous claims that swapping partners could work wonders for couples — everything from spicing up their love life to boosting sexual satisfaction.
So, she asked Fife for a photo of Colin, hoping to jog her memory of the coworker she’d caught a fleeting glimpse of, and Sienna. She vaguely remembered meeting him once before during an offhand chat with Fife. She’d been so upset then, tangled up in her own frustration with her boyfriend, that she’d barely registered Colin.
In the photo Fife showed her on Instagram, Colin was dressed in a casual, effortlessly stylish way that made him stand out. His eyes were a remarkable shade of blue, both soft and intense, with a depth that made her wonder why she hadn’t noticed him more when they’d met briefly before.
There weren’t any photos of him with his girlfriend on his Instagram — perhaps they were a private couple. But Penelope easily found Sienna's profile, and she was just as captivating as Colin, with dark, soulful eyes and long, wavy hair that framed her face beautifully.
Penelope now understood why Fife was so keen on swapping partners with them. She couldn't judge him much. After seeing Colin’s photo, the idea of spending time with him was becoming more and more tempting. It was impossible for her to push away thoughts of what it might be like to be with him. How could she? He was undeniably handsome, and the more she looked to his picture, the more she found herself drawn to the idea.
With all this swirling in her mind, she weighed the pros and cons before finally deciding to take the plunge. She had agreed to swapping partners, but only if they could have spent some time with Colin and his girlfriend first. She needed to feel comfortable with this couple before diving into any new escapades.
Maybe, she thought, tonight would be the night they turned things around. She had to believe that.
As she adjusted one of the glasses, her mind drifted back to how things had gone so wrong between her and Fife. And that’s when it happened—the glass slipped from her fingers, crashing to the floor.
Before she could even start picking up the pieces, Fife appeared in the doorway. He took one look at the mess and sighed, exasperation etched on his face.
"God, Penelope, you’re so clumsy," he said, his voice tinged with that familiar disappointment. "Please, just try not to do this in front of Colin and his girlfriend. It's the kind of thing we don't need tonight."
Penelope’s heart sank, a familiar anger rising up to meet the hurt. He didn’t ask if she was okay, if she’d cut herself — no, his first thought was about how it would look, what they might think. She bit down hard on the retort bubbling up inside her and instead knelt down to start gathering the broken glass.
As she carefully picked up the shards, her fingers trembling slightly, she couldn’t shake the thought that crept into her mind. Maybe, just maybe, her relationship with Fife was like this shattered glass — once whole and beautiful, now broken into so many pieces that no amount of effort could put it back together without the cracks showing.
She swept the last of the glass into her hand, the fragments sharp against her skin, and dumped them into the bin. Standing there, she took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. But the truth was unavoidable — no matter how much she wanted to fix things, some things were beyond repair.
Penelope was pacing the living room, her nerves in a complete tizz as she awaited the arrival of their guests. The faint echo of footsteps coming up the stairs sent her heart into overdrive. She fidgeted with her dark blue dress — sophisticated and elegant, or so she hoped. The fabric flowed gracefully around her, but it felt like a tight squeeze around her growing anxiety.
The doorbell rang, and Penelope’s heart did a little dance of panic. Fife went to answer it, and she gave the room one last, anxious glance. She adjusted the décor with the kind of frantic enthusiasm only a hostess under pressure could muster. Because, of course, rearranging the cushions would fix everything.
When the door swung open, Colin Bridgerton stepped inside, and Penelope was struck dumb. He looked absolutely dazzling. His dark brown hair, styled into the kind of effortless waves that made you wonder if he’d been born with a hairbrush in his hand, complemented his deep blue eyes. They had this unsettling habit of making you feel like the sun had just come out, even though it was pouring rain outside.
He greeted Fife with a firm handshake, then turned his attention to Penelope. With a grace that seemed almost otherworldly, he took her hand and kissed it gently, as if afraid it might shatter. His eyes never left hers, and Penelope felt as though she was caught in a gaze that was both intoxicating and hypnotic.
“It's wonderful to see you again, Penelope,” Colin said, his voice rich and smooth, sending a delightful shiver up her spine. “You look absolutely radiant.”
Penelope’s cheeks were on fire. She was mortified by how utterly spellbound she was by Colin’s charm. Then, just when she thought things couldn’t get any more awkward, Colin stepped back and introduced the woman standing next to him. “This is Sienna Rosso, my girlfriend.”
Penelope felt her face heat up even more, realizing she’d been so caught up in Colin’s spellbinding presence that she hadn’t even registered Sienna’s standing right there. She quickly composed herself, extending her hand to her. “Nice to meet you.”
Sienna smiled, her warmth almost palpable. “It’s a pleasure to be here, Penelope.”
Colin’s smile remained effortless as he turned his attention back to Fife. He reached into the folds of his coat and produced a bottle of white wine, its label glinting under the chandelier light. “I brought this for the occasion,” he said, his eyes twinkling with a mix of excitement and sincerity. “I hope it will be a worthy addition to our evening.”
Fife’s eyes widened in appreciation as he took the bottle from Colin’s hands. “Thank you, Colin. I’m sure it will be wonderful.”
Penelope, still feeling the blush in her cheeks, managed to muster a smile. “Thank you so much. It’s very kind of you to bring this.”
Colin’s gaze lingered on Penelope for a moment, as if assessing her reaction. Then, with a nod, he gracefully said, “We’ll leave it until dinner.”
“Please, make yourselves at home,” Penelope said, trying to sound more composed than she felt. “Dinner will be ready soon. For now, just relax.”
Colin and Sienna nestled into the sofa like they’d been doing it for years, and Fife, grinning like a Cheshire cat, immediately launched into an enthusiastic chat with Sienna. Penelope, meanwhile, was hovering nearby, her heart doing somersaults as she tried to keep her cool. Watching Fife and Sienna was like watching a live soap opera — there was a twinkle in Fife's eye that she hadn’t anticipated, a certain sparkle that suggested he was rather taken with Sienna.
To keep her hands busy, Penelope seized a bottle of wine she’d already decanted, clutching it like a lifeline, and started pouring glasses with a bit more enthusiasm than necessary. When she finally approached Colin, who had been observing her with an intensity that felt almost personal, she couldn’t help but blush. “Thank you,” he said, his voice had this rich, velvety quality that made her heart skip a beat.
“Your girlfriend’s really beautiful,” she said, taking a seat, giving again a casual glance toward Sienna and Fife, who were deep in conversation. Colin offered a polite smile. “How long have you two been together?” She asked.
“Not long,” Colin leaned in slightly, cradling his glass. “But enough about me. Tell me about you, Penelope.”
“About me? I’m not sure how interesting I am, Colin,” Penelope replied with a modest shrug.
“I’m sure you’re fascinating,” Colin said with a warm smile. "Fife mentioned that you work as a journalist and that you're starting to write a book."
“He did?” Penelope blinked in surprise. Fife wasn’t exactly her biggest cheerleader when it came to her work. He had this annoying habit of dismissing journalism as a low-paying gig and writing a book as just a hobby.
“Well, I must confess,” Colin continued with a slightly bashful grin, “I might have quizzed him a bit about you. I didn’t want to turn up here with nothing interesting to talk about.”
Penelope felt a flutter of surprise, the pleasant kind. This man had actually made an effort to get to know her, just to have something to discuss. It was almost…endearing. No, actually, it was completely endearing. Showing interest in her life was such a thoughtful way to break the ice, and the fact that he’d gone out of his way to do it? Well, she couldn’t help but find it pretty darn charming.
"So, tell me, what's it like working as a journalist?"
Penelope’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Oh, I absolutely love it. The newsroom is a madhouse most days, but I thrive on the chaos. And the book — that’s my little passion project.”
“Fife didn’t say much about it. What’s the story?”
“It’s a suspense novel!” Penelope exclaimed, practically bouncing in her seat. “I’m obsessed with the genre. It’s full of twists and turns, and the ending... well, let’s just say it’s going to knock the socks off my readers. Writing it has been such a joy.”
Colin’s smile grew wider, a spark of interest in his eyes. “That sounds amazing. So you’re into suspense?”
“Completely! There’s nothing like the rush of a good mystery. But I’m also a hopeless romantic. Give me a sweeping love story, and I’m done for.”
“Same here. There’s something comforting about losing yourself in a great romance or getting totally wrapped up in a mystery,” Colin mused, resting his chin on his hand in a way that only made him more appealing. “Reading is one of life’s greatest pleasures, isn’t it? So tell me — Sherlock Holmes or Hercule Poirot?”
Penelope blinked, taken aback by Colin’s literary knowledge, which seemed at odds with his laid-back demeanor. “You’re more of a reader than I would have guessed,” she said, clearly impressed.
With a grin that could melt ice caps, Colin replied, “Guilty as charged. I’ve got a soft spot for Holmes, but Poirot’s psychological insights are brilliant too. What about you?”
Penelope chuckled softly, feeling a warm connection growing between them. “I could never choose. Holmes is brilliant with his deductions, but Poirot’s ability to get inside people’s heads is just genius.”
“Great taste,” Colin said, his smile never wavering. “It’s obvious you’ve got a talent for telling stories that captivate. I can’t wait to read your novel when it’s finished.”
Penelope felt a cozy sense of satisfaction talking about her favorite topic with someone so engaged. The conversation flowed effortlessly, and she felt a wave of relaxation wash over her.
She glanced to the side and noticed that Fife was still deeply engrossed in conversation with Sienna. The two of them were leaning in close, laughing quietly, completely at ease. It struck her that Sienna must be quite accustomed to this sort of social interaction. Maybe she and Colin regularly went out with other couples, and that’s why he didn’t seem the least bit possessive or jealous about his own girlfriend. Penelope couldn’t help but wonder if this was just how they were — effortlessly cool and comfortable in any situation, like they were born to be the perfect pair in these social settings.
It was only when she realized she too wasn’t feeling the sharp pang of jealousy she expected to feel. She felt a peculiar, almost liberating sense of relief. Maybe, she mused, this was progress. Maybe she was finally wrapping her head around her own emotional chaos.
“Lost in thought?” Colin’s voice gently pulled Penelope back to the moment.
She smiled, a little flustered. “Actually, I was just thinking I should check on the food.” She set her wine glass down on the coffee table and stood up, brushing off imaginary crumbs from her dress. “Excuse me for a second. Once again, make yourself at home.”
To her surprise, Colin popped up from his seat with an easy grace. “I’d be delighted to help.”
He moved towards her with a natural, almost too-casual demeanor that made Penelope raise an eyebrow. Ever since she’d moved in with Fife, he had perfected the art of dodging any domestic duties, especially those involving the kitchen. Sometimes Penelope felt as if she were carrying the entire load on her shoulders, but any attempt to bring it up usually ended in a row.
Once in the kitchen, Colin took a deep breath and remarked, “The smell is absolutely divine.”
Penelope beamed at the compliment and showed him her handiwork. “We’re starting with caprese salad. Then it’s lasagna for the main course. And for dessert, we’ll have lemon pie.”
Colin’s eyes widened in genuine amazement. “Wow. You’ve really outdone yourself. If I wasn’t hungry before, I’m absolutely ravenous now.”
Penelope’s cheeks warmed with a mix of pride and embarrassment. “I just hope it tastes as good as it smells. I’m no masterchef, just someone who enjoys cooking.”
“By the smell alone, it’s bound to be fantastic,” Colin said, his gaze locked onto hers with an intensity that made Penelope’s heart do a somersault. She couldn’t help but think she might need to schedule a visit to a cardiologist soon if this kept up.
Trying to steady herself, she mumbled, “I’ll just check the lasagna.” She bent down to open the oven door at the same moment Colin reached to do the same. Their hands brushed, sending a jolt of electricity through her.
“Oh, um, thanks,” Penelope said, her voice a bit shaky, as she quickly turned away, desperate to regain her composure. “I’ll get the wine while you check the oven.”
As she moved away, the proximity to Colin left her feeling more than a little flustered. She couldn’t quite understand why Colin’s presence was affecting her so deeply.
“The lasagna is definitely ready to be served,” Colin said, casually tossing a dish towel over his shoulder like it was part of his regular ensemble. Penelope turned to find herself oddly charmed by the sight of this tall, handsome man in her kitchen, dressed in an elegant outfit yet managing to look perfectly at ease with a dish towel draped over his shoulder. It was such an incongruous image, and somehow, it made her feel unreasonably happy.
“So, I suppose it’s time to start dinner,” she said, holding up the bottle of wine with a decisive gesture. “If you could call Fife to help me, you and Sienna can make yourselves comfortable in the dining room.”
“Absolutely not, Penelope,” Colin said, stepping closer and gently taking the wine from her hand, their fingers brushing once more in a way that made Penelope’s heart do a little jig. “I insist on helping. Leave Fife and Sienna to their own devices.”
Penelope nodded, her mind spinning as she struggled to focus. Colin was not only devastatingly handsome but also smelled like a walking cologne ad. She found herself wondering if his scent was even more captivating at the curve of his neck, and whether she’d get the chance to find out.
“Alright, Colin,” she said, clearing her throat to regain her composure. “You take the wine and then help me with the rest of the dishes.”
Colin flashed her a charming smile and took the bottle of wine from her hand. He turned away, heading to the cabinet to fetch the corkscrew. As he started working on the bottle, his shirt stretched over his arm muscles in a way that made Penelope's pulse quicken. She found herself lost in the sight of him, her mind drifting to fantasies of being held in those strong arms. Her gaze wandered downward, taking in his backside snugly encased in those tailored dress pants. Watching him focus on uncorking the wine, Penelope felt a sigh building up inside her, completely entranced by the view of his physique — a testament to hours spent at the gym, no doubt.
“Would you like a taste?” Colin’s voice jolted her from her daydream.
“Sorry?” Penelope blinked rapidly, trying to dispel the flush creeping up her cheeks. Had she really been caught gawking at him with her mouth hanging open?
“I was asking if you’d like to try the wine,” Colin repeated, holding up the now-open bottle. “It’s a very fine vintage.”
“I’ll save it for dinner,” she managed, clearing her throat for what felt like the hundredth time and awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck. “Why don’t you set it on the dining table and come back for the lasagna?”
He nodded and slipped out of the kitchen, leaving Penelope alone to grapple with the heat pooling in her neck and the more insistent warmth stirring between her legs. What was this whirlwind of sensations that Colin was igniting within her?
The way he made her feel was a million times more intense than anything she’d felt in ages. It was as if everything she thought she knew about her own desires had been turned upside down and inside out, leaving her both exhilarated and bewildered.