Chapter 1
I blink rapidly, trying to make the image of the sexy socialite—if you can call him that—vanish. I open my eyes.
He’s still there.
Supple leather drapes comfortably around strong shoulders, framing a wall of masculine muscle before stopping mid-thigh. His hair is slicked back to exhibit those startling Ferro eyes people love so much. Their exact shade of blue is lost somewhere between ice and sky, storm and sea.
My jaw flops around as I sputter out, “I’m sorry. Please excuse me.” I move to push past him. Even the shock of meeting the Peter Ferro can’t subdue the sting of Nathan’s words. I step forward, but Peter doesn’t budge. I glance up at him, trying to quell the emotional storm brewing inside of me. Torrential tears threaten to blast from my eyeballs at any moment. I know damn well this moment is the eye of the storm, and I have seconds to find a safe harbor before all hell breaks loose.
Peter glances past me to Nathan, and then back down at me. “I apologize for my intrusion.”
“You've no need to apologize. I’m leaving.” I glance back at Nathan, who is avoiding my gaze. He’s done nothing but run his hands through his hair and stare at the floor, muttering things I can’t hear—things I’d rather not hear.
“Actually,” Peter smiles kindly at me, “if you could stay for a moment, I'd appreciate it very much. I know I walked in on something and, if you need to leave, please go ahead, but this will only take a moment. I wouldn’t ask if it weren't direly important.” The sincerity in his voice cuts through my inner storm, forcing the turbulence to fall still. His expression says something is very wrong.
“Can I help you, Mr. Ferro?" Nathan's voice is sharp, and his arms are locked tightly across his chest in a stance that screams fuck off. "You'll find the dean's office down the hall, and if you’re here for the scholarship committee, you’re lost. The COMS building is next door. Everyone is over there tonight.”
Peter steps across the threshold, passing me. The easy kindness that seems to be his resting expression is laced with apprehension—as if he isn't confident in being here doing this. Whatever this is. “I’m not here for the scholarship committee. I’m here to make a delivery.” He fishes a tattered envelope from the breast pocket of his coat and presents it to Nathan. It’s addressed to "Mr. Ferro" with a postmark and an edge sliced by the blade of a letter opener. From the looks of it, Peter has had the letter with him for some time now.
I’m still standing by the door studying the two of them. They’re equally handsome despite the few years Peter has on Nathan. Where Nathan is slimmer and slightly taller, Peter has broad shoulders and a chiseled jaw that looks like it belongs on a marble bust.
Nathan shakes his head and steps toward Peter. “Am I supposed to know what that is?”
Nodding, Peter replies, “Yes. A duplicate was mailed to you weeks ago. I was surprised when you missed the meeting.”
Nathan’s expression darkens. He steps into Peter’s space. “I have no idea what you’re talking about—”
Peter cuts him off. “After the funeral, you should have—”
Nathan’s eyes cut across the room to me. He takes a single step closer to Peter, then changes his mind, every inch of his body tensing as he steps away. Nathan gathers up some of the student materials left out as he answers, “You have the wrong guy.”
“No, I don’t think so.” Peter follows him, trailing patiently behind Nathan.
This feels incredibly uncomfortable. I’m not sure if Peter is trying to serve Nathan with papers, or if he truly has the wrong person. Either way, I’m not sticking around to find out. I raise my finger in the air and point at the hallway, ready to dart. But things go screwy, and I don’t get the chance to speak.
Nathan spins on his heel, suddenly nose to nose with Peter Ferro. “I do.”
“I wouldn’t have come here if you'd given me another option.”
“You have no business with me. Like I said—you have the wrong guy.”