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."
They 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 him 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 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."