Life Before Damaged Vol 8: The Ferro Family (Life Before Damaged #8)

by H. M. Ward

  Pete’s still holding me, his arms around my waist. He’s towering over me, with those smoldering eyes and sexy lips turned up with a teasing grin. “Then, you’re doing it wrong, or your partner is utterly lacking.” He taps the tip of my nose with one finger.

  My chest expands as I try to catch my breath, but it's as pointless as trying to breathe during freefall. If sex with Pete is better than skydiving, I can't survive that level of intensity. There’s no way.

  My lips quirk up into a coy smile. “There is no way that falling from the sky gives less of a rush than...”

  He leans in so close to my ear that I can feel his warm breath on my neck. “Falling for me? Go ahead and ask.”

  I suck in air and feel my back go ram-rod straight. I’m way too aware of my boobs in my hot pink jumpsuit. It’s like his eyes are hands and they’re tracing me slowly, teasingly. This is just the way he likes to play. He’s all flirt and fiction. Laughing, I lean in and press my lips to his ear. “You’re a little too full of yourself, Mr. Ferro. I think someone needs to take you down a notch and tell you no once in a while, so let me help you out—there is no way sex with you is better than this.”

  As I speak my eyelashes flutter against his cheek. Pete is very still, barely breathing, and when I pull away, his eyes are sharply focused on my mouth. His jaw is tight as if he were trying not to take the bait and refute me. It’s like he wants to say something but can’t—or won’t.

  My brows come together as my gaze narrows. “Well, this is a surprise. The sex king bites his tongue and fails to reply. Just remember that you had more than one occasion to put out, and you chose to say no. So, you don’t get any of this.” I gesture to my curves and arch my back forcing out my S-curve. It was meant to be silly. I look like a lunatic, but Pete’s lips part and he stares at me.

  That look makes my heart pound for all the wrong reasons. Butterflies are forming inside of me and I don’t like this. It’s hard because this version of Pete is the one he hides from everyone, but it’s the one I see. It’s the Pete who rarely shows his face. He’s sincere, funny, warm, and caring—his gaze could make a gaggle of girls orgasm simultaneously. Suddenly, heat envelopes me and I need to put space between us. I step back and catch my breath.

  Pete is too quiet. My pulse hammers in my ears and this feeling of wanting more than just his friendship—wanting him to accept who he really is—wanting him to want me, frightens me. He fucks everyone, but he pushed me away. I should hate him. I want to, but then this happens and I feel drawn to him. There’s more there, there’s a man beneath the surface and he’s drowning, trying so hard to escape.

  I understand. I know that feeling all too well.

  Crap. I look back up to the sky, at the multitude of rainbow colored canopies floating down toward the open landing field. I desperately want to run. I can’t stand this. I can’t tolerate his feelings because he reminds me of myself. I wasted my life and missed out on amazing things because I was too scared.

  Fuck that.

  Pete still has a serene, pensive look on his face. Smiling, I dart toward him intending to press a quick kiss to his lips, but he pulls away. My head lunges forward and my mouth connects with nothing. Pete’s hands are on my shoulders holding me back.

  Rejection? Really? Swallowing hard, I step back and shake out of his grip. “Nice to see you, Ferro. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go sign up for another jump.” I spin on my heel and intend to jog off, but he reaches for me.

  Pete puts a firm hand on my arm just above my elbow, stopping me and pulling me back toward him. “Gina, wait.”

  I refuse to meet his gaze. I look everywhere, but at his face. My smile is too big and my voice is too chipper. I want him to let go and stop touching me, but I don’t want to rip my arm away. I don’t want him to know that he hurt me.

  Laughing lightly, I cock my head to the side. “It’s better than sex, remember? I’m going for multiple orgasms here. After all, a girl has to take care of her own pink parts anyway. It’s not an everyday thing where I can get all, oh baby please.” When I say those three words, I’m joking. I close my eyes, lean my head back, and expose my neck. I touch my fingers to my throat lightly and trail my hand down along my breast as I speak breathlessly. Loudly. I beg and gasp before sucking in a ragged breath.

  When I jerk my head upright and glance toward the desk, wondering if I have time to take another dive, I happen to glance at Pete in the process.

  His eyes are wide and the centers have turned to deep pools. Longing is etched on his face and he positions his lips as if something stole his breath—and his heart. The tension in his arms are gone and he seems to be leaning toward me, as if there’s something pulling him toward me.

  Irritated I huff, “Oh, what the hell? I was kidding, Ferro. Get over yourself! Go find a hose and cool off.”

  I take off again, and Pete snaps out of it.

  His voice is strange, weak. “Gina, wait.” He steps toward me and pulls me back.

  My eyes drop to the hand holding onto my arm, then up to his face. “What?”

  His expression is wavering, flipping between coy and serious. “Although I'm always in favor of multiple orgasms, that's not in the cards for you today--at least not here. My mother sent me to retrieve you.”

  My chin extends forward as my eyes widen. “Excuse me?”

  “You’re moving into the house as of now, and there’s no choice this time. She won’t take no for an answer. Your things have already been moved.”

  BREAKING UP SUCKS MONKEY BALLS

  October 19th, 3:41pm

  “WHAT!? How? Why?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? You’ve become unpredictable, and she doesn’t like unpredictable. She wants you close to keep tabs on you.”

  Making an aggravated noise in the back of my throat, I tug on my hair and resist the urge to scream in his face. My voice goes the other way, and becomes sharp and quiet. "I've finally figured out how to deal with this, and this is how she reacts? I still have two and half months before things go to Hell. She can't take them away from me! Dammit, Pete! This isn't fair, and you know it!"

  I scream out in frustration, pulling my hair from its low ponytail, and stomping one foot.

  "So, life with me is Hell, huh? Gee, thanks," Pete says in a voice more sad than angry. He lets out a rush of air and shakes his head. Deep blue orbs filled with regret bore holes into me. "I wish there was something I could do but--" Pete looks over my shoulder, and his scowl deepens.

  I follow his gaze to see Philip running across the grassy field toward us. I toss my arms up in the air. "How am I supposed to explain to Philip that I'm moving in with you? I thought I had two months, Pete. I need more time."

  Pete doesn't get to answer. Philip reaches us and wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close to his body and dropping a kiss on the top of my head. Every instinct I have screams for me to move away from Philip, but I don't.

  I can't.

  “Hey, Gina! I was looking for you. Is everything okay? How did the jump go?” He nods towards Pete. “Ferro.” He says as a polite, man-to-man greeting. Pete nods back, his eyes never leaving mine. “Am I interrupting something?” Philip asks cautiously.

  Pete backs up a step, never breaking eye contact with me. “I’ll give you two a couple of minutes. I'll be on my bike when you’re ready to go.”

  Pete's eyes flick between Philip and me, pausing on his arm draped over my shoulders. I feel guilty for allowing Philip to touch me at all, and desperately want him to stop. Pete's eyes settle back on me, an apologetic look on his face. “I’m really sorry about this, Gina,” he says before turning to walk back to his bike, head slumped and hands in his pockets.

  Philip’s arm slides off of my shoulders, and he moves between me and Pete. “What was that about? Are you leaving? With Ferro? What's going on, Gina?”

  My legs are too tired to hold me up. With the adrenaline rush of the dive wearing off, Pete’s bomb and what I have to say to Philip, I can no lo
nger stand. I sit down on the grassy field, legs crossed. I pat the spot next to me.

  Philip sits down, but I can tell he’s wary. He’s a smart man. He can tell something is wrong. I never thought I would break a heart. The feeling disgusts me. I remove my gloves and brush my fingers against the tops of the cool blades of grass.

  I want to start with 'I really like you' or 'it’s not you, it's me' but that sounds lame. No matter how I try to start, what I have to say sounds like the dumbest thing ever. I have to take the dive. I have no choice. Philip has earned the truth.

  “This is going to sound really bad, but I’d rather you hear it from me instead of the tabloids. You remember that Granz Textiles recently merged into Ferro Corp?" Philip nods, waiting. "Part of that merger involves me and Pete. We’ll be engaged this winter sometime. He just came to inform me that I have to move into his family’s home. Today.”

  Philip remains silent for a while. My fingers play with the blades of grass, ripping them lengthwise into tiny narrow strips. His silence is long and heavy. If it weren't for the fact that I can still see his legs from the corner of my eyes, I'd think he wasn't here. Finally, he responds in a controlled tone. “I see. You’ve known this for how long, now?”

  Oh, God. He's going to hate me for this. “Since right before Ricky's party.” I swallow hard and brace myself for the worst.

  Philip pushes off the ground and paces back and forth in front of me. When he stops, he turns and looks down to meet my gaze. His expression is hurt and angry, his voice is loud and agitated as he speaks.

  “What am I to you, Gina? Some game? A last fling? I'll tell you what you were to me--a woman I could settle down with, a woman I could build a life with. Now, you tell me you're marrying someone else! And that someone else is a Ferro? I can't compete with that."

  He rubs a hand over his face in frustration, then continues, his voice lower, calmer. "I thought you were hesitant to go further with me because you were still getting over your asshole ex-boyfriend. Shows what a schmuck I am. If you had told me sooner you were only in this for a meaningless fuck, I would have been all over that. But now it's too late. There's no way in Hell Ferro will let me touch his girl once you're under his roof. Whatever this is," he motions between us, "has got to be over. He's sent people to the ER for less.”

  I flinch, remembering the night Pete and I met, the reason we're in this impossible situation in the first place. “Philip, please, I’ve been doing my best not to cross lines, but it’s complicated--I really do like you. I really want to be with you. I enjoy the time we spend together. If things could be different—"

  “Different? How? As in me becoming your paramour? Your secret love affair? I'm sorry, Gina, but there's no way I'd want to share you--with any man, for any reason. I'm not wired that way. It’s an all or nothing kind of thing. Since you're already his, that makes us nothing.” He stands in front of me and shakes his head, looking beyond me, toward where Pete waits for me.

  “Philip, please! I'm not his. You see the way he is with other women. Our marriage isn’t going to be based on love. It’s just an unpleasant stipulation of a business merger and, for reasons I can't explain, I can't back out of it. I wish I could choose you, I just can't.”

  Philip is quiet for a moment. He looks at his hands and then back at my face. “Gina, I see the way you look at each other. There's more to this than you're telling me, but I'm not interested in hearing about it—not after your treating me like this. I don’t want to be friends. I don’t want to keep in touch. Have a nice life, Future Mrs. Ferro.”

  FIRE, ICE, BLOOD, AND SWEAT

  November 2nd, 2:43am

  Smoke.

  My nose crinkles at the acrid odor. I try to breathe through my mouth instead, but the smell of scorching fumes makes my throat seize up.

  Fire.

  I open my eyes, panicked, sitting up in my new bed, in my new room in Ferro Mansion, drenched in cold sweat. Flames are everywhere, surrounding me. I’m trapped.

  I gasp, try to scream but I can’t speak. I’m calling for help, but I have no voice. I’m alone, and no one can save me. Terror rips through my body as I press myself into a corner of the room.

  Slowly, the flames morph into human shapes. Burning people reach out with flaming arms to pull me into the inferno with them.

  I frantically back up on my bed until I’m pressed up against the intricate hardwood headboard, and I scream again. Sizzling hands grasp and pull at me, my skin blisters under their touch. I scan the room with my eyes, desperate for an escape. A clear, narrow path, leads from my bed to the door, but the suite is big.

  I have to run. It’s the only way out.

  I sprint from the bed, blazing hands grabbing at my bare legs as I run. I’m faster; I can do this. I'm not weak anymore, and I break free. I pass the living room and make it to the grand foyer by the wooden front door. I place my hands on the handle and realize the metal is freezing cold. I yank my blistered hand back and glance behind me.

  The fiery mob is closing in on me, their faces morphing into focus. It's Philip, Zeke, and their skydiving buddies. They're calling my name, leering, asking me to join them. Philip's normally kind eyes are full of vengeance.

  Wrapping my hand with the hem of my nightshirt, I try the handle once more. The door opens, and I run out, expecting to be on the front lawn, but I’m not. I must have gone through the wrong door because there are hallways that stretch endlessly in either direction.

  Ice covers the walls. It’s so cold. My breath comes out in white puffs of steam, and I hold my arms tightly around me to keep warm. I don’t know where to go. Nothing looks familiar anymore.

  I turn to my left and run, barefoot. With a stitch in my side, I tear down an endless icy corridor for what seems like hours. Impenetrable ice covers all the doors. I keep sprinting. I finally see the end of the hall. A single, ice-free door faces me. I try the handle. It’s neither hot nor cold to the touch, so I turn it.

  I’m suddenly outside, on the vast grounds of Ferro Mansion, standing on soft green grass. I’m safe. I bend over at the waist, my hands resting on my knees, trying to catch my breath. I hear laughter from behind a nearby rose bush and tiptoe towards the sound. I wish I hadn’t.

  On the other side of the bush, Pete sits on his bike, shirtless. Moonlight glistens off of the sweaty sheen on his skin, defining each toned muscle. He's holding a single rose in his hands, caressing the petals gently with his fingers as if it's the most precious thing he owns. Women surround him, dozens of naked women. They are clawing at him, trying to get him off of his bike. He looks at them lustily, hunger in his eyes.

  When he sees me, his expression changes. He appears sad, lost. I step toward him, but the naked women push me back, hissing, their snakelike tongues darting out. Pete drops the rose to the ground, and it freezes on contact, shattering. He kicks the bike's engine to life and takes off, fast. He speeds on the icy covered ground and as he rounds the corner by the front gate, I see the back wheel lose traction.

  The motorcycle tire slides out from under him as the bike races forward, and thrusts him into the pavement. His battered body slides toward the front gate, not slowing. Rungs of metal from the ornate decoration at the foot of the gate are shaped like arrowheads. There’s no helmet to protect his face, no jacket to save his skin. I scream out as loud as I can, horrified.

  My voice fills my head as the cry of terror rips from my body.

  Darting up in bed, I gasp. My voice is still in my ears. I must have yelled. My heart is still pounding and my body is covered in sweat. It seemed so real. Even though I know it wasn’t, even though everything is fine, my emotions can’t recognize the difference. My body is still ready to run or fight.

  I push away the damp hair that clings to my face. There’s no fire--there never is. I take in my new and now slightly familiar surroundings, taking deep calming breaths. I’m safe. I pick up one of the plush pillows and hug it tightly to my chest.

  I’ve been living in Ferro Mansion
for two weeks. My life here isn’t so bad if you like cold and loveless isolation. I haven't spoken to Philip since our horrible breakup at the drop zone. Erin tried to stop by several times, but the butler keeps sending her away. All I can get from her are text messages. I miss her.

  Pete is kind to me, but I hardly ever see him. Jonathan hangs around the house, but he's a massive flirt--his resemblance to Pete makes me uncomfortable.

  I avoid the indoor pool and spa because that seems to be where Mr. Ferro keeps his bouncy boobs. I have no inclination to engage in brain-numbing conversations with them. If I have to listen to the virtues of acrylic, gel, and silk nails again, I'm jumping out of a window.

  I feel like I’m in prison, which is fitting, considering that's where I belong. The only locations the Ferro family chauffeurs are allowed to drive me are to school and back. I’m getting a serious case of cabin fever despite the fact that this place is huge and has everything I need--everything except what counts most in a home.

  The clock on my nightstand shows 2:58 a.m., and I can’t go back to sleep. Pushing the blankets away with my feet, I swing my legs over the side of the bed. I pad across the large room and open the closet door. I step inside and grab my dance bag from the little golden chaise, and pull the strap across my shoulder.

  Silently, I pad down the hallways. The only thing that brings me any joy is the unused ballroom I discovered on my second day here. It’s my salvation. When I’m not in school or studying in my room, I’m in the ballroom dancing. I dance until I can no longer stand. I dance until I can’t feel anything but pain from pointe, or overused muscles crying out for rest.

  At least I can fathom that type of pain. I can ice it and make it go away. I wish I knew how to ice the nightmares.

  I pad inside and flip on one of the chandeliers. I mute the light so it’s glowing softly, only illuminating the center of the room ever so slightly. Mirrors surround the edges at various places as does ornate gold moldings. The combination of gold and pale light makes it feel like candles glowing around me.