Secrets & Lies 5: The Ferro Family

by H. M. Ward

  To my surprise, he doesn’t laugh. His gaze drops to the floor and then back to my face. “Nathan?”

  “Yes, Nathan. I saw the letter. I know who he is to you. The secret, the scandal, the unwanted baby all those years ago could do a lot of damage right about now.”

  He watches me, and his lips curl into an ugly smile. He gets in my face and hisses, “You don’t have the balls to—” his voice catches as I grab his nuts and twist.

  “I have the balls. They’re right here.” I make no expressions, no noises, nothing to let him know I’m anything but a sociopath. The thing is, I’m not. My brain is all squeaky, yelling at me to let go. I’ve got a tiger by the balls! If I let go, he’ll tear my face off! I’m in over my head. What the hell do I do now? I glance at the desk without taking my eyes off of Ferro, squeezing his junk way too long. There’s not enough Lysol in the world.

  He offers a throaty laugh, while his gaze shifts nervously toward the desk, then back to me. “So I see. And now what do you plan to do? Suck them? I like that.” He grins at me, making my insides feel fifty shades of chartreuse.

  This is so gross. He has to take me seriously. Now. His eyes flick to the desk. There’s a letter opener within reach. Does he expect me to use it? Is this some sick fantasy for him?

  I want to let go of his nut sack, but I can’t. This is so gross. I can’t believe I’m doing this. Not to mention I’m way too close to Ferro. The heat from his body coupled with his scent is hard to ignore. Next time I play with a guy’s fun parts, I’m going to think of this. I’m going to be in therapy for the rest of my life anyway, adding one more thing to the list shouldn’t matter much, right?

  I’ll have an aversion to nuts after this. There are lots of girls who don’t like nuts. No big deal.

  The crazy train derails when Ferro hisses in my ear, “I don’t know what lunatic let you out, but they’ll know you were here.”

  Yeah, that sounds crazy. I nod. “I’m aware.”

  “I wasn’t informed you were under house arrest, but I’ll be certain to make sure you never see sunlight again.” Ferro hisses in my ear, half spitting, half turned on.

  House arrest? WTF? Why does he think I’m a convict? All of a sudden, I figure it out. The Fitbit. It looks like an ankle monitor from a distance. That’s funny. He’s going to be pissed when he sees the clock light up.

  I make a snap judgment and go for it. He already thinks I’m going to do it. Why not? I have no other way out of this if I don’t. I can’t just release the boys, let them bounce back into place, and pat them. No harm done. I threatened THE Mr. Ferro.

  Shit. Don’t think, Kerry. Just do it. I lunge for the letter opener without releasing his testicles. They twist in my palm as Ferro hops in a circle and screeches. “You should have been castrated a long time ago," I say in as threatening a tone as I can muster. "Should I take care of it now, or do we understand each other?”

  He doesn’t move and in that moment something changes. Ferro’s eyebrow shifts and his gaze lowers over my face and rises again. The lump in my throat hardens, and I’m so far past feeling crazy. Giggles bubble up in my throat—I’ve swallowed so many of them I’m going to burp.

  Ferro’s lips part slightly and he speaks under his breath. “Tit for tat.”

  “You don’t have wiggle room on this. Give me that house or lose a nut.”

  “I don’t have the deed here.”

  He’s lying. Holy crap. I didn’t expect the deed to really be here. “Yes, you do.”

  I smile at him and press the blade into the side of his crotch. It slices through his slacks and pricks his inner thigh. He stills. “Should I press harder? Move a little to the right? How do you want to do this Ferro? Both boys at once, or one at a time?”

  “Forgive me for stating the obvious, but I prefer to keep my person intact. The deed is on the desk. I’ll sign it under one condition—you'll owe me a favor.”

  “You don’t have the—“

  “No, Miss Hill, I think I do. Unless you actually want to shed blood, I think you’ll accept my offer. But don’t let me spoil your fun. If you need an angry fuck, I’m here for you.” He dons a predatory smile and my stomach heaves in response. He’s frightening. His hand wraps around mine, and he pulls the letter opener out of my hand and tosses it on the desk, wriggling out of my grip like an eel. “Are we agreed?”

  My Spidey sense is going batshit crazy, but I have no idea why. I can’t figure it out. Why toss the weapon away? What could he want from me? Did he want this to happen? Did he know I was coming? How does he even know my name?

  I nod because a small victory is all I need right now.

  I follow him as he walks over to the desk and pulls open the drawer. He sifts through a stack of papers, separating out the deed to Nathan's house. He signs it and holds it out for me. “Now tell me why. I’m curious if you want that house because of the location or if it’s more about the contents.”

  “The house isn't for me.”

  He laughs. “Then you’re a fool.”

  CHAPTER 8

  I had a Ferro by the nuts! I’m a badass! If I could make up a song about it, I would. I’m grinning from ear to ear when I get back to the dorm. I wave at a few people as I head to Beth’s room to tell her what happened. I’m sitting on her bed—orgasmic cookie in hand—recapping the whole thing.

  Giddiness is pouring through me. I want to run, sing, and dance all over her bed. “I can’t believe I did that!”

  “Me neither.” Beth’s eyes are wide. “You seriously grabbed his junk? And twisted? That was sick. What was the plan if he said fuck off?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. Twist harder?”

  “Where was his bodyguard? He always has someone with him. I don’t know how you even got in there.”

  I fall back on the bed, kick off my heels, and shove the rest of the cookie in my mouth. The Fitbit lights up as I cross my ankles and I laugh. “He thought it was an ankle monitor. My street cred went up 100 points when he saw it. I don’t think he would have done anything if he hadn't thought I’d been arrested.”

  “What the hell? The whole thing is weird.” Beth pulls off the blingy belt she’s been wearing and lays it across the dresser. “Maybe your luck is changing.”

  “That would be a shocker. I’m half expecting my hand to fall off from contracting some weird skin-eating parasite through his pants. That would happen to me. Not this.”

  “So you’re going to give the house back to Nate?”

  “Yeah, it’s not mine. It’s his.” I frown.

  “God, Kerry, what now?”

  “I did this for him, but it seems crazy. I mean, we were together once, and then I threaten his father. Shit! Maybe this was stupid.”

  Beth laughs once, hard and slaps her knee. “That’s an understatement. It was fucking spectacularly idiotic, but it made you feel like you had control over your life for once. I can’t blame you, but telling him how you got the deed—I think I’d omit sections of that whole thing. Maybe make up a different story.”

  “Great. More lies. Just what I need.”

  “If you want Nate to stick around and not run screaming, I’d save the details of this story for a later date. Change. Go give him his house back. Have your fuckbuddy and come back. Tomorrow is another day.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Beth’s right. I did a good thing, but there’s no way to show up on Nate’s doorstep and hand him the deed to his house. I’m sure that’s why Mr. Ferro expected me to keep the property. He didn’t think I would actually take Nate’s house. I’m not that kind of person. Although Mr. Ferro assumed I'd wandered off from house arrest, so who the hell knows what he was thinking. The man doesn’t see things the way normal people do. He’s had a lifetime of piss-poor choices and a mattress full of money to make his problems disappear.

  I decide the best way to give Nate the deed is to mail it to him. I walk to the post office on campus and send it certified mail, so he has to sign for it. I don’t include a not
e or any explanation for the contents of the envelope. It’s just the document and nothing else. That’s all that matters.

  Another week rolls by, and my weird life finally finds its groove. I attend my classes, exercise with Carter—freaking Fitbit—then bounce between Beth and Emily in my free time. Josh avoids me, and I'm curious about what he did, but decide not to look it up. His past is coloring his future. I don’t want it to skew my opinion of him. The guy is all right, despite radiating false bravado like a Chihuahua. That aside, I think he’s a good man.

  When modeling night rolls around again, no one tries to stop me. Maybe they’ve finally stuffed their judgments into their mental cupboards and locked the doors. I arrive about half an hour early with a Monster in my hand, chugging it back as fast as I can.

  Dr. Jax is walking down the hall in his customary tweed jacket and old man pants. “Miss Hill.” He inclines his head at me respectfully and slows.

  “Hi, Dr. Jax.”

  He clasps his wrists in front of him and smiles at me, looking yet again like Santa. I’m leery of that smile. I know there’s a massive manipulator hiding beneath that snowy white beard. “You’re still modeling.”

  “Yes.”

  “Interesting. Do you feel you have something to prove?”

  “Not anymore.” Isn’t that the truth? I’m doing what I want from now on. Nothing works out the way I plan, so I’m officially pantsing the rest of my life. Liberation is nature’s medicine.

  “That’s good to hear. You’re a promising student, and I think you’d benefit much more from the class by sitting on the other side. After tonight, I’d like you to go back to drawing.”

  “But—” I open my mouth, ready to protest.

  He cuts me off, “I know you need the job. Positions within the department are difficult to find. However, I know the owner of a certain gallery downtown. It pays well and would better utilize your time and skill set. Should I tell him you'll accept?”

  “Apparently so.” My face falls, and I know I’m frowning. There are complications—schedules to manage, my driving a bus that will eat an entire week's pay in gas by driving that far, not to mention traveling with the raccoon is unpredictable. I can’t tell him any of that, so I just nod and smile.

  A puzzled look crosses his wrinkled face. “Miss Hill, aren’t you going to ask what you’ll be doing?”

  “It doesn’t matter, does it? I need a job, so the answer is yes.”

  He watches me for a moment, pressing together and releasing his lips repetitively, wiggling the white hair on his upper lip like a caterpillar. He finally drops his hands and sighs. “You have steel in your spine and tremendous resolve when required. Each opportunity is just that—a chance, a stepping-stone to what may come in the future. Remember that.” He walks away without further comment.

  I’m not sure what just happened, but I think my apathy annoyed him. The truth is, it’s not indifference at all. I’m in overload. My head is ready to blow up. Change invites problems—I already have more of those than I can handle.

  I slump into the art room, plunk my bag down on a desk, and flip on the lights. While I’m digging through the cabinets looking for the drape, Nate walks in.

  “Hi, Kerry.” He acts like nothing happened between us.

  “Hey.” Relationships suck. How did this happen? I wasn’t supposed to see him again, but then, yeah, of course, I see him all the time because he works here. I clear my throat and ask, “How’ve you been?”

  He’s wearing a tight-fitting white t-shirt. He shucked his blue sweater and placed it on a desk while he moves around the chaise and repositions everything in the set for the class. As he drags the chaise into place, the corner of his mouth tips up and he glances at me. “Good. The weirdest thing happened. I was packing after the incident with the—well, you were there, so you know—and two days later I get a letter in the mail with the deed to the house.” He straightens and watches me, a smile dancing on his lips.

  “Wow, really?” I resist the urge to turn away. I’m not a good liar, and this guy hates being told anything but the absolute truth. I can’t blame him.

  “Yeah. It was strange. One day Ferro was tossing me out on my ass, and the next he’s handing over the house, no strings attached.” As his blue gaze locks with mine, goose bumps break out on my arms and my stomach flips.

  Does he know? He can’t possibly realize my involvement. Rubbing my arms, I turn away, tossing the drape over my shoulder and heading toward my changing area. “With the Ferros, there are always strings attached.” I should know—I’m the one who'll get strung up.

  “That’s what I thought. The best I can figure is that someone twisted Ferro’s arm because legally he didn’t have to do a damn thing. So I started digging around and found some interesting information.”

  Shit. He already found out. I tug my shirt over my head and twist the fabric in my hands as I stand behind the cabinet. Nate’s voice comes closer as he speaks, and he’s standing on the other side.

  I try to keep my voice even, level. It’s harder than it seems because every part of me wants to haul ass out of there. Not running isn’t in my DNA. But I manage.

  “Really? What’d you find out?”

  Nate slips around the side of the cabinet and sweeps his eyes over my bra and bare midriff before lifting his gaze back to my face. He knows. He has to know. He’s going to verbally lash me now. Or smile and pat me on the head? Please be the second option. Please!

  “It’s interesting really.”

  I bet it is—crazy non-girlfriend threatens to cut off your estranged father’s junk. This is going to end badly. Just tell him. Confess. It can’t be as bad as if he finds out on his own. “Nate, I need to tell you something.”

  “You see, I thought it was weird Ferro would come and take the house now. The timing was strange. If he waited a little while, I would have found out anyway. The eviction and then complete 180 made me start digging, and you won’t believe what I found out.” His voice is intense, powerful, and pissed.

  We both speak at the same time.

  “Nate, let me explain—”

  “There’s oil under the house.”

  We both flinch and say in unison, “What?”

  Nate leans his hip against the cabinet and repeats himself. “There’s oil. A lot of it. Ferro bought out all the surrounding homes. He’s going to frack the area, mining what oil he can before paving it for a parking lot. What were you going to say?” He folds his arms over his chest, and tips his head to the side, resting it against the cabinet.

  I’m too shocked to reply. I just stand there and blink. Holy fuck. I didn’t just take a house. I stole a massive amount of money from the Ferro family. I’m a dead girl. I manage to murmur, “Oh. My. God.”

  He’s smiling. “I know, right?”

  “Yeah, Nate. That’s. Wow.” I can’t seem to form a sentence.

  Nate gets closer and touches my cheek lightly, sweeping his hand along my jaw and then my neck. “Celebrate with me tonight.”

  I nod slowly and smile at him. “Does that mean what I think it means?”

  “Yeah. Sex. No strings. Only if you want to.”

  Butterflies launch from deep within me directly up and into my brain. It feels like I’m made of bubbles and being tickled from within. The way he says it, the deep sound of his voice and touch of his hand is intoxicating.

  Nodding slowly, I tell him, “Sounds good.”

  Nate turns away but then spins back around. “Oh, what were you going to say?”

  I laugh nervously and shake my head. “Oh, it was nothing. I’ve got another job, so this is my last night modeling. Jax got it for me. I thought you were upset about it.”

  “No, I’m not. That’s great. A new job! So we have two things to celebrate.” I watch him, walking away happy.

  Fuckbuddies don’t celebrate things together. They use each other.

  I’m starting to think I’m in an open relationship with Nate Smith.

  Nat
e Smith, whose house is sitting on oil.

  Nate Smith, whose Dad hates my guts.

  Not to mention the looming mysterious Ferro favor, sure to be much larger than anticipated.

  Fuck. I stole oil from Ferro. That was like robbing Scrooge McDuck’s money bin. I’m going to end up in jail—if things go well. The bottom of the river is the more likely scenario, which would suck. I need to figure this out fast. It wasn’t about a house. It wasn’t about Nate at all.

  Damn it.

  CHAPTER 10

  Sex.

  It’s all consuming and a sure-fire way to not think about anything else. Too bad there are three hours of silent modeling before that. Sitting still with nothing to do but think isn’t the best thing right now. At the start of class, Nate tells everyone this will be the last week with me as the model.

  “Miss Hill will be working elsewhere, which means you need to finish up any work requiring her tonight.” Nate is trying to hide his disposition, but I can tell he’s excited. “Next week we’ll move to critiques, so you’ll want to have your paintings close to completion before then. The classroom will be open for you during the week so you can work outside of class as well.”

  Emily is wearing a dog collar around her neck. The glint of the silver catches my eye when she moves. She never asked how she got home that night from the bar. I never volunteered that it was Nate either. Emily clears her throat and speaks, keeping her face glued to her sketchpad, eyes trained on a single point in the upper corner. “So next week we get to rip apart each other’s work.”

  Nate had just passed by her and rounds on her. “No. Listen, critiquing isn’t crapping all over someone’s work. It has a purpose. It’s a peer review system that allows you to consider things you might have missed. Next week, everyone will offer praise for things they like and constructive advice on what could be better, because that’s what we’re all chasing, isn’t it? Every artist wants to know how to improve and refine their work enough to reach the next level. It’s not a social snubbing or community backstabbing. There’s enough of that shit going on without it taking root in here too.”