[House of Morgan 01.0 - 03.0] Boxed Set

by Victoria Pinder

  She pressed her lips together and avoided his gaze. "So the bet was about keeping me occupied, so I didn't ruin anything for anyone? Was the plea of friendship from Colt and Vicki out of guilt?"

  Whatever brought her here didn't matter as long as she forgave him. He pressed his lips together and kept the conversation going. "Belle, I called off the bet because you fascinated me."

  "Again with that word."

  She slowed down and tugged his arm. He stopped and gazed at her. She flipped a piece of hair behind her ear.

  "Peter, perhaps it's best if we say from now on that we're friends."

  He massaged his scratchy chin. If he could help her, he would. It would be his way of paying her back for that stupid bet he had initially made.

  "What?"

  She shrugged. "I came here because I wanted closure. I don't want to regret spending years of my life with a man who didn't love me. I'm worth far more."

  He squeezed her hand. "Yes, you are."

  She shook her head. "I should have stayed with my friends, had a few beers, and never involved myself with the Morgan family. Going to the party alone was my mistake."

  "Don't." His heartbeat quickened. "You are far more than a friend to me, and I don't want to pretend otherwise."

  She licked her lips. "We all don't get what we want in life. We should give the patients their envelopes, and then I'll head to the hotel, alone."

  "I am sorry."

  She grabbed his arm as they walked. "Good. Next time don't make a bet and judge me."

  A second later Jennifer walked out of a hospital room, carrying the half-empty box. Clearly she had handed out more than a few. She returned and dropped the box onto the counter and stared right at him.

  "Oh look, you're back. I just finished handing out the gifts in this wing. Perhaps we can share the next hallway?"

  Belle opened her mouth and grabbed the box off the counter. "Peter, this is up to you."

  Peter lifted his chin.

  Jennifer didn't glance at Belle at all. He met her gaze and shook his head.

  Jennifer pouted, "I was just helping give charity to these people, like we have done for the past few years."

  Belle's arms crossed.

  Peter swallowed. "Jennifer, Belle and I want to do this alone."

  Jennifer glared at Belle. "Peter, you know underneath everything, I mean well. You told me you believed in me."

  Belle's lips opened, but Peter stepped in front of her. "Jennifer, don't be rude with my new girlfriend. Belle deserves your respect."

  Belle stilled just as Jennifer's mouth opened wide as she stared at him again. "Peter—"

  He interrupted her. "My name is not an apology to Belle."

  Jennifer lost all the coloring in her face, and her shoulders slumped. "Belle, I was unforgivably rude, and I interrupted more than I thought I would. I apologize."

  Belle lifted her chin. "It's fine. You were illuminating."

  Jennifer lowered her gaze and sashayed out of the hall.

  Neither of them said a word until she was out of sight. Then Belle handed him the box. "Peter, let's finish delivering the rest of these and then go."

  He followed her into the next room, carrying the box. At the door, Belle took the marked envelope. The sick little boy in the bed widened his eyes as Belle brushed her arm against his mother's shoulder.

  The mother turned and asked, "Who are you two?"

  Belle nodded her head. "We're from the Morgan Foundation. This is for you. Please take this, and if you ever need anything, please let us know."

  The mother opened the envelope and had tears in her eyes. "This is too much."

  Belle smiled. "Take it. Merry Christmas."

  The mother stared at her son and then nodded her head. "This will help us. Merry Christmas to you too."

  They walked out of the room together, and Belle bumped into him as they turned the corner. Then she wrapped her arms around his waist and smiled.

  "Peter, I like your Christmas tradition."

  She hadn't demanded a reporter and a photographer to follow them. Belle was one hundred percent real, and she hit something in his heart that reminded him why he liked his yearly trip here. He hugged her and whiffed her apple scent. He decided apples were now his favorite fruit.

  Chapter 16

  The limo brought them over a bridge and onto an island where the streets were lined with palm trees. Belle gazed out the window, unsure where she was. A sign read that all the property was private except the road. She swallowed. Her neighborhood in DC was exclusive, but nothing like this. They drove past the back of a mansion on the road and then a few houses and then another mansion.

  To avoid the scenery, she turned toward Peter and asked, "How come the mansions are all facing away from the road?"

  "The houses are built to enjoy our views of Biscayne Bay and downtown Miami."

  This was larger than his brother's place where he had held the party, and far more opulent. The limo stopped on the street near the back of the house. She crossed her arms as she scooted out. The mansion was multiple floors, and she could see a chandelier inside through the window.

  She shook her head. "If you live here, why didn't you host the rehearsal dinner?"

  He shrugged. "My sister was marrying Colt. She wanted the wedding closer to Homestead and in a place that wouldn't overwhelm half her guests."

  This had been a mistake. She should have gone to the hotel, not agreed to hear him out.

  As he held the door for her, and she stepped into the white marble entrance way, she gulped. The other day, she'd have left the moment she stepped inside. Now she folded her hands together and gazed at that gorgeous golden chandelier that took center stage in the room.

  "I understand."

  "It's just a house, but it was built in a time when families intended to show off their homes." The Great Gatsby had nothing on Peter Morgan's home.

  "Did you buy this yourself?"

  "No, this was my family home. I inherited."

  "Of course it was."

  The carvings on the walls were hand painted. She swallowed as she stared at the portraits on the wall and the ceramics. This was not a place for children. He didn't seem to notice that her mouth was open.

  "You'll like the view. Perhaps we can have dinner on the patio after I show you the grounds?"

  “Sounds nice.” She tried to blink. This was too much. "We came here because you said you wanted to talk."

  He threw open the double doors of the front and let the sunshine inside. She covered her eyes and stepped forward to take his offered hand as he said, "I definitely want that, but I'm hoping we can include dinner still."

  "I suppose, but your house intimidates."

  He tisked as if he didn't see the connection. "It's only twelve bedrooms. Dad always complained that us children made too much noise and disturbed his guests in the other wing."

  Her apartment had two bedrooms, and that was enough. He then pointed toward the Miami skyline that shone over the water. She stepped closer to him and smelled his woodsy scent. She almost lost track of the conversation, but massaged her neck.

  "He didn't bring you to meet every one of his guests and explain why he needed them entertained in his house?"

  "Of course he did. I was always delegated to be his right hand. Most of the people invited to stay with us soon lost everything as Dad targeted their financial interests. He claimed the house visits were the guests' way of making up for some slight, but no one ever smoothed things over with Mitch Morgan."

  "So I am not the only one intimidated here."

  He opened another door and held it for her. She pressed her lips and followed. She stepped into the room.

  "And you?" she asked. "If crossed, can you be smoothed over?"

  "In business, not likely."

  "And in your private life?"

  "I don't have one. Now that my brother and sister are back, they expect me to be part of a family. It's strange for me."

  T
hey were in a living room of sorts. Her feet ached in her new heels, but she didn't say anything. She took his hand and brought her to the couch. He followed her direction and sat. She joined him.

  "Growing a heart is a good thing. Can I ask a question?"

  His hand landed on her knee. "Sure, what?"

  This was it. She swallowed. "What did you mean it when you called me your girlfriend?"

  He didn't move. "What?"

  "You called me your girlfriend." She turned her body to face him more. This conversation was important. "We have only had two, well if you count today, three dates. Are we dating?"

  His eyebrows lifted. "Aren't we?"

  The bet rang in her ears as important. The thought caused her body to stiffen. She'd get to that in a minute.

  "Peter, our lives are very different. We probably won't mesh well together."

  His hand stayed on her knee and squeezed it. For a moment, she thought he read her mind. "What bothers you?"

  She glanced at his leg. Last night he'd made her forget the entire universe. She crossed her arms.

  "Colt didn't want to marry me because I didn't want to leave my job for a farm."

  "Alice and Colt run a corporation worth three quarters of a billion dollars. He'd need to be close."

  His deep voice caught her attention, and she gazed at him. Her throat seemed to close on its own. She coughed out the choke his news seemed to cause.

  "What? The farms weren't worth half that much a year ago."

  He shrugged. "They now have access to better contracts and contacts."

  He didn't have to lay claim to helping Colt. She saw stars floating. "You did that because of Colt and your sister?"

  He shook his head. "Alice married John, first. Alice and Colt are partners, and no one in my family will ever go poor."

  Close to a billion dollars was hardly poor. The multimillion dollar farms Colt used to run had tripled in value in less than a year. Her entire body heated, and she glanced out the window at the blue bay.

  "You almost make dumping me sound like a good financial investment."

  His hand pressed against her knee. She swallowed.

  "Belle..."

  A loud high pitched voice of a woman echoed in the air and interrupted them. "Mitch! Where are my children?"

  Peter's face went white.

  Peter and she both jumped to their feet. Peter's eyes circled, and he inhaled without exhaling. Then he said, "Excuse me," and rushed out the door.

  Whoever was here clearly intended to argue with Peter's father. Belle stayed right on his heels and followed him down a hall toward the room they entered.

  An older woman with Peter's high cheekbones covered her lips. Her eyes misted as she stared at him. "Oh my God. Peter."

  Peter crossed his arms and stared at the older woman. His face was white, and his hands were clenched. "What the—"

  Now wasn't the time to overreact. She reached up to his shoulder and massaged his arm to get him to relax.

  He unclenched his hands as she asked, "What's going on? Who is she?"

  His fingers touched the bottom of his lips. "Belle, that's my mother."

  The one that left him scarred and unable to trust anyone. Belle licked her lips and tried to sound calming and soft.

  "Your what?"

  "I'm his mother, Isabella Morgan." His mother came closer and seemed like she wanted to hug him. He stepped away. Tears fell down the woman's face. "Peter, thank goodness you're okay. You've grown so handsome. Where are your brother and sister?"

  His hands clenched again. "Safe from you. How did you get in here?"

  She pointed toward the door. "My kidnappers delivered me. They said Mr. Morgan expected my delivery. I thought it was your father."

  "My father is dead."

  A smile grew on her face that she quickly masked. "Then it was you who freed me."

  Belle asked as she shook her head, "What?"

  Peter didn't move. His shoulders were tight. Belle glanced out the window and saw the SUVs. "Those are Morgan Enterprise cars."

  His mother wiped her eyes. "Yes, your father refused to let me get divorced. He had me transported to a compound in Argentina, where my only contact with other humans was my children and his staff. I was so worried about you."

  "You left me. You certainly didn't contact us."

  The words had sounded etched in pain. Belle squeezed his arm to let him know he was fine. If her mother ever walked in the door, she'd have no idea how she'd react.

  His mother's face went as white as his. "I didn't. I was kidnapped right from the front door. Your father ensured I was kept under lock and key while all my needs were met, except the most important one of all. You and my other children. Please understand."

  "I don't." He then stepped out of her arms and walked toward the window to stare at the SUVs. "If you were the merchandise I had delivered to my house then you were living in a condition most people cannot afford."

  His mother shook her head. "Peter, I couldn't ever leave the villa. Your father had me. I would never have left my children. You must know that."

  "Why would I know that?" Peter's voice had a desperate edge that he never showed. He knew better than to show his emotions.

  Belle had no idea what to say, but this story sounded believable. Peter had told her plenty about Mitch. She swallowed and wanted to know how to help.

  Peter's entire body was stiff. "I saw you walk out the door."

  His mother's eye widened. "What?"

  Peter kept his head high, but his words held fury. "You and Dad fought. Then you stormed out the door and never came back."

  His mother took a step toward him. "I went to get air that night. I needed to pack your things to take you with me. I wanted a divorce."

  "I don't believe you." He avoided her touch, but returned to Belle's side.

  "Your father cheated on me and then refused to let me go. He was a horrible husband and everyday I prayed that you were safe."

  Peter's hands clenched. This was fast, but Belle wanted to help him. She reached out and grabbed his arm.

  "Peter, she's your mom. You told me yourself that your father went on to ruin everyone who ever stayed in the house with you. If she is your mom, then the worst thing he could do to her was take her children away."

  He shook his head as he stared at her. "Don't defend her, Belle. If she's telling the truth, then she can talk to Rafe. He's on the police."

  "Rafe Soliz? Pilar’s son? He's a cop?" His mother walked over to him and reached out. Peter flinched, but let her touch his arm. "I'll talk to him. Peter, I have always loved you. Your father wanted to cut me out of your life, so he could mold you into him."

  His lips parted as he stared out the window. "That's exactly what he did."

  Tears flew down his mother's cheeks again. "Peter, no."

  He walked out of their arms and paced the room.

  His mother continued, "Your father didn't have a heart, but you used to."

  Belle stood beside her and hugged her stomach. She had no idea how to help.

  Then his mother finished, "Your girlfriend seems lovely. Tell me your name and if Peter truly cares about you."

  This was the second time today she had been called his girlfriend. She shook her head. "We just met, Mrs. Morgan. I'm Belle Jordan. Peter was showing me his house."

  “You seem nice, Belle.” His mother smiled, but then stopped herself. She stared at Peter as she said, "Please call me Isabella. Peter, where is your father?"

  "I told you." Peter froze and stared at her from across the room. "He's dead. We buried him months ago."

  His mother wiped her eyes and lifted her chin. "He deserved to die in misery. So what took you so long to bring me home?"

  Peter stared at Belle and then Isabella, his mom. "I thought you left us. I didn't know anything else. When I was given an expense report, I wanted to know what merchandise Dad had hidden away."

  His mother stepped closer to him again. Belle wondered if she
had a death wish in that moment until she said, "Peter, where are John and Victoria?"

  Peter closed his eyes and massaged his chin. "Vicki's packing for her honeymoon, and John lives with his wife and child."

  His mother's eyes widened. "They are married?"

  "With children, both of them." He turned toward a maid that stood in the next room. "Caro, have my mother's things brought into the east wing. It seems I have a guest."

  "Yes, Mr. Morgan."

  Did he always assume his staff was on call without having to raise his voice? The very pretty maid helped Isabella Morgan leave the room.

  Belle pressed her lips together.

  His mother turned from the door and walked in front of him again. "Can you call them? I want to see all my children again."

  "Please follow, Caro, Mom. I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around everything."

  "Caro, are you a Soliz as well?"

  "Yes, ma'am. My mother worked here before me." His mother turned to go but then stared at Peter again.

  She steadied her shoulders. She marched toward Peter, threw her arms around him and hugged him. He didn't hug her, but he stayed still to let her brush his hair with her fingers.

  Peter didn't move. He seemed stuck in that one spot. Belle came toward him again and took his hand and unwrapped his fingers. When she placed her hand in his, Peter rocked on his feet and then squeezed her hand.

  Isabella Morgan swallowed.

  "Belle, I don't know what to do."

  "You're doing great."

  She stared into his brown eyes. He seemed like a young boy who had just lost his mother. Her own heart melted a little, and she'd help him.

  "Peter, relax. I'll text Colt. You call your brother."

  Isabella followed the maid. Peter stared down the hall as his mother walked away.

  "My mind is in a complete fog. I never thought my father would..."

  "Do you think he was capable?"

  "Yes."

  His eyes were haunted. Unshed tears gathered in her throat.

  "There are no words. I'm sorry."

  Neither of them moved. Clouds formed in the distance on the water.