Verena knew exactly what kind of beast she was dealing with.
In the novels, Penelope was a textbook thrill-seeker.
Daddy issues courtesy of her emotionally whiplash-inducing father, a.k.a. the Emperor himself.
Hot one day, cold the next.
Truly, this girl was raised by a Scorpio in every sense of the word: dramatic, intense, and allergic to emotional stability.
Penelope's eyes narrowed. "What on earth are you talking about?" she snapped, somehow both offended and confused.
Classic Penelope, wounded by words she didn't even fully process.
Verena calmly dabbed at her lips with a handkerchief like a Victorian lady who'd been sneezed on by scandal. "You say you never wanted to be my friend," she said, voice cool, "yet you kissed me?"
"H-Hey!" Penelope's jaw dropped. "Why did you wipe it off?!"
"Darling, it wasn't exactly consensual. And you always go on and on about respect. So where exactly was the respect in that?"
