"Damn it! That i***t Howard is dead meat. I swear, if I don't get back at him, I've wasted my time on this earth. I just signed on for a variety show, and if the director sees my face like this, I'm screwed."
Tyron stood up, walked over, and leaned down to examine her forehead. His gaze was sharp, calculating.
"That's pretty bad," he murmured. "Might even scar. Howard really deserves what's coming to him. Once you're better, I'll have someone take care of him for you."
"No need," Penelope said coolly. "I'll handle it myself. If I can't even take down Howard, then my two years in prison were for nothing. But what about you? It's late—why are you even here?"
Tyron didn't answer. Instead, he suddenly pulled her into his arms.
With effortless ease, he lifted her off the ground, sat down o
