by H. M. Ward
She nods slightly and smiles softly. “I do. But you haven’t painted since that night.”
I admit, “Yeah, well, it was kind of traumatic.”
“I wanted you to find the joy it once held for you. Maybe it won’t be the same. Maybe it’ll be better. The one thing I know for sure is that you need to pick up a paintbrush. You need a creative release, Kerry. You always have. Don’t let that asshole steal this from you.” She hesitates and adds, “But if it’s too much right now, I understand.”
Shaking my head, I sit on the stool and smile. “No, Ma. It’s perfect.”
She beams. “That’s the first time you’ve called me Ma in a really long time.”
I glance over my shoulder at her. “You used to hate it.”
“I don’t feel that way anymore.” She glances around, trying to hide her happiness. “Bathroom is back there, a mini-fridge is fully stocked over there, and I hope you brought your cell because I’m leaving you here to paint.”
Smiling, I laugh lightly and show her my phone, “Yup, I’ve got it.” After I promise her I’ll call when I’m done for the day, she hands me a set of keys and heads out.
I glance around at my first studio. The feeling is bittersweet. I select a paintbrush from the glass and wind my hair into a bun, then stab it with the brush before I get to work.
CHAPTER 17
Loneliness leaks from my heart and doesn’t stop no matter what I do. I miss him. I miss Nate. Another few days creep by at sloth speed. I spend the day and most of the night painting. I’ve taken to calling an Uber when I go home because it’s past midnight. Mom is different. She changed that night. So did I.
My paintings are all dark and fragmented. There’s no flow, no life. It’s as if my soul were sucked dry. Exasperated, I toss my brush across the room. It splatters dark blue paint on the concrete floor and skids to a stop.
My phone chimes. It’s probably Beth again. We’ve been texting nearly non-stop. She met a guy and is determined to keep him from her brothers. I smile and reach for my phone. When I see the name on the screen, my chest tightens.
NATE: CAN I SEE YOU?
“I wish, but I’m two thousand miles away,” I mutter to the empty room.
As I start to type back, I feel eyes on the back of my neck. As I turn slowly, I know he’s already here, standing in the doorway. “Nate?” I say his name like a question, certain it’s not him. It can’t be.
He smiles sheepishly at me. “Sorry for the lack of notice, and the total dick moves in Texas. I thought I had a little time, and then you were gone. I didn’t know until you’d left.”
I’m frozen, emotions locked up tight, and nothing spreads across my face—not happiness or hatred. I’m blank as the canvases around me.
Nate steps toward me, his eyes locked on mine. “I took a chance. I came to find you, and your Mom said you were here. I hope you don’t mind.” He’s careful, cautious.
I’m mute, lips parted, silently staring.
He continues, “You see I was in New York, and I thought I’d see if you were all right.”
“What were you doing there?” The question tumbles out.
He lowers his head and then inhales slowly, making his eyes meet mine once more. “I just received two payments—one from the fracking company that bought my land for top dollar. The other from the insurance agent who was certain my house burned to the ground because my girlfriend didn’t know how to cook.”
I snort a small laugh and look away. “Well, that’s mostly true.”
“I never thanked you for that. For protecting me, for helping me.”
“You would have done the same for me.”
He says nothing, just watches me with those sapphire eyes. He continues, “I gave the money from the oil company to an environmental fund who filed for an injunction this afternoon. Ferro can’t drill until the court hears the case.” He smirks, revealing a dimple on his left cheek. “And the rest of this, well, I was talking to my half brother, and it turns out he’s not an asshole. He’s actually a good guy.”
“Peter?”
He nods. “Yeah. He offered me a job up here.”
My heart thumps once and falls into my sneakers. I planned to go back to Texas, but he won’t be there. He’ll be up here. “Did you take it?”
“Yes.”
My eyes sting as they get glossy with tears. I blink them back and smile fakely, trying to be happy for him. “So, you’re a part of the Ferro family now? I’m glad. It sucks being alone.”
He steps forward, closer to me, but still an arm's length away. “Yeah, I thought about what you said. I'm not at all like my biological father, so it wasn’t right to assume my brothers would be like him either. We all talked—well, I talked with Peter and Jon. Sean is another story.” He laughs nervously and lifts his gaze to meet mine while wringing his hands.
The conversation dies, and the room falls silent, save the hum of the lights above. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what he wants. He’s so hard to read. Why would he come out here if he didn’t want anything to do with me? I manage, “So what now?”
He glances at my hand, then back at my face. He steps closer, closing the distance. He’s a breath away. “You tell me.”
“No,” I whisper. “If I matter to you, show me. Don’t make me guess. Don’t walk out on me and then—”
I don’t get a chance to finish my thought because his lips are on mine. The pressure is soft, and the kiss is perfect. He gently holds me, and when the kiss is over, he pulls away. “I want you, Kerry. Texas, New Jersey, or wherever you want to go. I’ll follow you. I want to know you. I want to be a part of your life if you’ll let me. I know I don’t deserve it. I was a prick. I didn’t realize why you did anything until Beth explained. I should have seen it, Kerry. I wish I did. I wish I had known you did all that crazy shit because you loved me.”
He inhales deeply and presses on. “The question is, after everything I’ve done to you, do you love me still? If you don’t, I can leave. I won’t bother you again. But if there’s a chance for us, well, I had to take it. I love you, Kerry Hill. Do you still love me?”
The moment is surreal. His voice lingers in the air like notes of music. I lean in close and press my lips softly to his and then whisper, “Yes.”
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THE WEDDING CONTRACT
EXCERPT: THE WEDDING CONTRACT
I can hear Amy’s voice through the front wall of the little shop, talking to a potential client about photography for their wedding. I’m in the back, putting away props from this morning’s shoot. After stowing the box on a shelf in the back, I walk across the open space, and duck out through the curtain that covers the doorway to the front.
“Well, congratulations, and thank you for considering Bella Chicks Studio. Best of luck to you both.” Amy smiles as she sets the phone back into the cradle. Her light brown hair is pin straight and tied back into a style that looks perfect on her. When I try it, my curls just look tangled.
Folding my arms over my chest, I breathe in slowly. It’s stupid to think that this was his doing. Amy hasn’t even told me yet, but the skin on my arms prickles like a big fat omen. I know it was him. It’s always him. “So, I take it the Gettys hired someone else?”
Amy smiles at me. It’s the facial expression that begs, ‘Don’t kill the messenger!’ I’m not mad at Amy; I’m upset about the situation. We can’t keep losing clients like this. She nods slowly. “Yeah, they went with Bella Clicks.”
My lips smash together and I try not to yell. I try so hard not to overreact, but this is the third client that Nick Ferro has stolen from me this month. The bastard has been making my eye twitch for weeks. It
seems like every time I figure out how to get a step ahead of him, he one-ups me, and then does it better and cheaper. God, I hate him.
The worst part is, if things continue like this, I can’t afford to stay in my little shop. Babylon Village is cute, but the rent is a bitch. And I know Mr. Copycat doesn’t have that issue because his daddy owns the damn shopping center. Why didn’t I get a non-compete clause in my lease contract?
Amy can tell that my blood is boiling. “Uh, Sky. You haven’t blinked in like, five minutes. Don’t go all Medusa on me.” Amy is a mythology buff and works Greek gods into anything and everything. Half the time I don’t even know what she’s talking about.
The ringing in my ears should be my cue to go scream in the back room like a normal small business owner. Instead, I knot my tightly folded arms and shove through the glass front door. My feet pound the parking lot, hard and fast, leaving Amy and her don’t-do-its behind.
This has to stop. I was doing fine until Nick showed up. God knows there are enough people trying to make a living in New York, but none of them, aside from this ass-hat, camped out on my doorstep stealing my clients.
I never do stuff like this. I never chew anyone out. I always smile and look for the bright side of things. Screw that. I’ll be out of business if I don’t fight back, so I shove into his store, my fists up and fangs bared.
“Get out of here, you sorry excuse for a man!” I’m standing in his perfect lobby, which is just as posh as mine, but instead of rich red accents, his are blue. He has his consultation table in the same spot as mine, with huge pictures of brides in Time Square and by Saint Pat’s Cathedral, just like I do. I notice the new floral arrangements with peacock feathers, and I’m ready to explode. When did he copy those?
My eyes drift over to the little table he has set up with albums on it. Last month, I met a new vendor that provides these beautiful albums for my boudoir clients. The albums have sequins, supple leather, and feel perfect under your fingertips. I see one glinting from behind a wedding album on his table. Wide-eyed, I step toward it and lift the little book with shaking hands.
Nick appears from the back and shakes his head slowly. “Sky Thompson, what can I do for you?” Nick has dark, perfectly tousled hair that falls over his forehead, right above gem-colored blue eyes. Today, he’s wearing a designer white button-down shirt with jeans. There’s a chunky watch on his wrist that cost more than my net worth. He’s beautiful, cocky, and rich. His voice is like a siren’s song, and he completely and totally sucks rabid monkeys—a spoiled brat to the core.
Anger surges through me, as I look up at him. “What’d you do to land the Getty wedding? Offer to pose with her in the boudoir pictures?” Oh my god. Nick has the audacity to smile while I’m ranting. He tries to hide it, but I can see the amusement in his eyes. I shove a finger into his chest and continue raving. “Because there’s no way you could get that client on your own, you pampered ass!”
Nick looks like he’s biting the inside of his mouth to keep from laughing. I’m right in front of him and seriously consider kicking his shins. Every muscle in my body is strung so tight that I’m ready to explode. I’m practically vibrating—until I see Beverly Getty emerge from the back room, followed by her daughter and husband. Aw, suck.
I deflate as I see the livid look on Beverly’s face. She told me that she’d be sending a check today, but she’s in Nick’s studio instead. I don’t get it, and from the look on her face, she doesn’t plan to elaborate. “What did you say about my daughter? Or was your crass comment directed at me, Miss Thompson?”
What the fuckery? Seriously, I never blow off steam! I never tell anyone that they suck and the one time I do, it bites me on the ass. My lips tug into a nervous smile and I have that weird feeling where I don’t know what to do with my hands. I grab my pointer finger and try to patch things up, like I didn’t just eat my foot. No, I swallowed my whole damn leg and half my ass. There’s no way to make this right. “Mrs. Getty, I didn’t mean to imply—”
“You didn’t imply anything, dear. And if you must know, we found Nick to be much more easygoing. A wedding is stressful enough and I didn’t want anything else to make my Tiffany anxious. I see I chose well and I’ll make sure that everyone knows how you really behave.”
Nick glances between us before putting a hand on Beverly’s shoulder. “Sky wouldn’t have ruined your daughter’s wedding. She’s a very capable photographer. The truth is, she only gets twitchy like this when she forgets her meds. It could happen to anyone.” Beverly Getty gives me a second look, like she can now see my obvious mental defect.
“Go back and grab a chai tea from the Keurig. I’ll get those new albums I mentioned.” He looks up at me and grins. “On your way, Sky. Or would you prefer I call Amy to fetch you?” He says it so sweetly, as if he’s helping me.
Not meaning to, I clutch my hands tightly and growl before I turn on my heel and storm out. As the door closes behind me, I hear Nick saying to the Gettys, “Don’t worry, she’s not dangerous.”
Continue reading THE WEDDING CONTRACT now!
MORE FERRO FAMILY BOOKS
Trystan Scott
~BROKEN PROMISES~
Jonathan Ferro
~STRIPPED~
Bryan Ferro
~THE PROPOSITION~
Sean Ferro
~THE ARRANGEMENT~
Peter Ferro
~DAMAGED ~
Nick Ferro
~THE WEDDING CONTRACT~
Please turn the page for a suggested reading order.
SUGGESTED FERRO SERIES READING ORDER
THE ARRANGEMENT 1
THE ARRANGEMENT 2
THE ARRANGEMENT 3
THE ARRANGEMENT 4
THE ARRANGEMENT 5
THE ARRANGEMENT 6
DAMAGED 1
DAMAGED 2
SECRET LIFE OF TRYSTAN SCOTT 1
SECRET LIFE OF TRYSTAN SCOTT 2
SECRET LIFE OF TRYSTAN SCOTT 3
SECRET LIFE OF TRYSTAN SCOTT 4
SECRET LIFE OF TRYSTAN SCOTT 5
THE ARRANGEMENT 7
THE ARRANGEMENT 8
THE ARRANGEMENT 9
THE ARRANGEMENT 10
THE ARRANGEMENT 11
SCANDALOUS 1
SCANDALOUS 2
STRIPPED 1
THE PROPOSITION 1
THE PROPOSITION 2
THE PROPOSITION 3
THE PROPOSITION 4
THE ARRANGEMENT 12
THE ARRANGEMENT 13
THE ARRANGEMENT 14
THE PROPOSITION 5
THE ARRANGEMENT 15
THE ARRANGEMENT 16
THE ARRANGEMENT 17
THE ARRANGEMENT 18
THE WEDDING CONTRACT
SECRETS & LIES 1
SECRETS & LIES 2
SECOND CHANCES
LIFE BEFORE DAMAGED 1
LIFE BEFORE DAMAGED 2
LIFE BEFORE DAMAGED 3
LIFE BEFORE DAMAGED 4
LIFE BEFORE DAMAGED 5
LIFE BEFORE DAMAGED 6
LIFE BEFORE DAMAGED 7
LIFE BEFORE DAMAGED 8
LIFE BEFORE DAMAGED 9
LIFE BEFORE DAMAGED 10
THE ARRANGEMENT 19
THE ARRANGEMENT 20
MANWHORE
BROKEN PROMISES
THE ARRANGEMENT 21
STRIPPED 2
SECRETS & LIES 3
SECRETS & LIES 4
SECRETS & LIES 5
SECRETS & LIES 6
THE ARRANGEMENT 22
SECRETS & LIES 7
A DAMAGED WEDDING
EASY
THE ARRANGEMENT 23
MORE ROMANCE BY H.M. WARD
SCANDALOUS
SECRETS
COLLIDE: THE SECRET LIFE OF TRYSTAN SCOTT
DEMON KISSED
CHRISTMAS KISSES
SECOND CHANCES
SHADOWS OF THE PAST
OVER YOU
And more.
&nb
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
New York Times bestselling author H.M. Ward continues to reign as the queen of independent publishing. She is swiftly approaching 13 MILLION copies sold, placing her among the literary titans. Articles pertaining to Ward's success have appeared in The New York Times, USA Today, and Forbes to name a few. This native New Yorker resides in Texas with her family, where she enjoys working on her next book.
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