by H. M. Ward
CHAPTER 10
As I lay in his arms, everything else fades away. For a brief moment, I can pretend I’m all right. No memories haunt me. No regrets crush my heart. I'm focused on his warm body crushed against mine. Nate breathes steadily as he runs his fingers through my hair, his gaze on the ceiling. From the curve of his mouth, I know he’s thinking about something unpleasant. His high is already gone. Life is so crushing he can’t outrun it for more than a moment at a time.
I clear my throat and tip my head back, glancing up at him. That beautiful face looks down at me, and a cocky grin spreads across his kissable lips. “Hey, there.” His voice is so deep it rumbles in his chest.
“Hey, yourself.” After a moment, I see the happiness drain away from his face. “Put that smile back on right now.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Yes.”
“Or you’ll do what?” The corner of his mouth pulls up into a lopsided grin as he shifts his weight to get a better look at me.
I don’t let him move. “Or I’ll climb right back up there and make you smile again.”
He grins. “I like that threat.”
I can’t stop smiling. “You would.”
“I noticed that little pink bag when you walked in earlier. What’s in there? Something good?”
“Nope, something bad. Very bad.”
“That sounds intriguing.”
“It is, and you know what?”
Before he can answer, the ding-dong of the doorbell sounds. I dart upright, clutching the sheet to my chest. I glance at him. “Expecting someone?”
“No.” Nate’s mood darkens. He pushes himself up, gets out of bed, pulls on a pair of jeans, and pads barefoot to the door. “I’ll be right back.”
There’s something about his eyes and the lines of his mouth that make me worry. He knows who’s there, and he doesn’t want to talk. After Nate disappears through the door, he pulls it shut behind him. I’m not waiting here for someone to walk in. I jump up, tug on my clothes, and smooth my bedhead into a ponytail, before creeping toward the door. I try to listen, but I can’t make out anything they're saying.
There are voices. Two men I don't know and Nate. At first, it’s just the Charlie Brown’s teacher muffled mumbling, but then it gets louder. I crack the door open ever so slightly and peer through the crack. Two men stand in front of Nate. One wears a uniform—maybe a cop—and the other wears a suit. They’re trying to hand him a letter, but Nate won’t take it.
Every muscle in Nate’s back is taut like he might hit something. “This is bullshit!”
“It’s the law, Mr. Smith,” the uniformed man replies without raising his voice. The guy is young, Nate's age, and glances at the suit like he wishes he were somewhere else, doing something less shitty.
Nate barks back, “It can’t be. This has nothing to do with me!”
“It’s all explained here, Mr. Smith.” The suit tries to hand Nate the envelope again, but Nate backs off like the thing could hurt him. “You realize speaking to you is sufficient for our purposes, as is leaving this in your house. I’m sorry. I realize this is a trying time for you.”
“Don’t pretend you give a fuck about me or what I’ve been dealing with. I know you don't give a shit. Just take your rent-a-cop and get out.”
The officer tips his head to the side, indicating they should leave. The young man exits the house first, and only the suit remains. The guy is older with a rounded profile backlit by the setting sunbeams shining through the glass door. His jowls say he’s done this before and that he didn’t like doing it then either. Pity mingles with hope in his old, scarred face. His gray hair is clipped so short he might as well be bald.
“I don’t know you from Adam, kid, but I'll tell you something important—fight your battles one at a time. If you try and jump into the ring with all your demons at once, you’ll never make it out alive.”
“Spare me the fatherly advice and get the hell out,” Nate growls. From the way he’s behaving, I think the old guy made a fairly accurate statement.
The suit laughs and shakes his head. “Youth is wasted on the young. You have so many choices here, but you’re running blind.” He glances past Nate and sees me looking through the crack in the door. I startle, but the guy doesn’t give me away. He looks straight at me and says, “There are decisions to be made, and a sounding board is your best option right now. Someone that isn’t knee-deep in this shit, Nathan.”
Nate glances up and softens at that, tucks his hands into the crooks of his elbows. “I didn’t choose this.”
“I know you didn’t, but it happened all the same.” The suit doesn’t say another word. He slips through the door and Nate remains planted in that spot long after he’s gone.
I finally creep out of the bedroom. Nate hasn’t moved. He’s got his feet shoulder width apart, arms folded across his chest, and his stubbled jaw locked tight. He glances over his shoulder, sees me there, and turns slowly. A plastic smile spreads across his beautiful face, marring it with pain. “I lost it, Kerry. I haven’t got a fucking thing left of my past.”
I don’t understand. We’re standing in his house, surrounded by things from his childhood. “What are you talking about?”
Nate gestures toward the envelope on the table. “He owns it and all the contents. I’m not even supposed to be here.” Nate is shaking, whether from fear or anger, I don’t know. He clutches the sides of his head and grits his teeth trying not to scream.
“Who? Nate, what are you talking about?”
He rounds on me, his eyes narrow and screams the words, “He owns this house and always has! It wasn’t my father's house to give to me.”
“Who?”
“That prick who had an affair with my mother.” He says the name through gritted teeth, “Ferro.”
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STRIPPED 2: A Ferro Family Novel
EXCERPT: STRIPPED 2
Chapter 1, Cassie
With Jon’s coat wrapped around my shoulders and the blanket draped over my hips, I watch the two women on stage. Their laughter rings true, and I can’t help feeling envious. Their lives must be so much easier than mine. I haven’t laughed myself sick for a very long time. A combination of tears and terror ward off any moments of pure bliss.
I feel Jon’s gaze on the side of my face. He leans close so we’re nearly cheek-to-cheek and whispers, “As far as I know, they both have a bag of demonic cats living in their brains. That chick,” he nods at Sidney, “confronted my mother.”
My jaw drops and I stare at him, gaping. “No.” The word is drawn out, and my unspoken question hangs in the air—who has the balls to challenge Constance Ferro?
“Yes. That one,” he points to Avery, “she’s still fighting the tide, but refuses to go under.”
“How do you know that?”
He shrugs. “I sense it.” I suspect there's a story behind his comments, but Jon dodges further discussion by joining Trystan by the stage.
Trystan Scott—blue-eyed heartthrob, sex on a stick, and all around ladies man—pushes back into the dark leather chair, worry pinching the tanned skin between his eyebrows. Dark hair falls into his eyes as he claws the arm of his seat, backing away from the crazy chick making herself at home in his lap.
Sidney and Avery stand arm in arm in mirrored poses, their opposite hands on their hips. Avery calls out, “Hey, little bro Ferro.” She laughs and says to Sidney, “He’s not very little is he?”
Sidney shakes her head and giggles. “I’ve heard nothing about him is little.”
Peter, who had been standing quietly behind me, is suddenly across the room and marching up the steps. “Hey!”
Sidney smiles at him as he crosses
the stage and wraps her arms around his waist. “Girls like to talk, and it’s hard to avoid hearing rumors since people ask me way too frequently about you.”
Peter’s eyes turn into beach balls, and he nearly chokes. “Excuse me? Where do people ask you these things?”
She shrugs, ticking off a list on her fingers. “At the market, at school, in the ladies room.” She looks over at Avery. “Do they bug you about Sean?”
“They think I’m a hooker, so I’m invisible.” Avery picks at a spot of glitter on her arm. “Besides, my profession doesn't exactly make me a credible source. Who cares if Sean's call girl said he’s huge?”
Everyone stops and gawks at her. Bryan stops teasing Trystan to give his full attention to Avery. “He hired you?”
Stunned faces snap to hers, but Avery's expression remains placid as if she’s accepted it and moved on. In the echoing silence, a needle could drop and sound like a grenade.
Jon practically growls, “I don’t know why anyone is shocked. We are talking about Sean.” He seems pissed, and shoots a quick glance at me from the corner of his eye, then moves across the room to sit by Trystan.
There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Based on the facial expressions of the people here with me, I'd guess it’s contagious—we all feel it.
I keep my eyes down, but I hate that Jon said it. I hate the way no one tries to protect her. Strength on the outside is just that—outside. It doesn’t keep the world from trampling your heart.
I find my voice, “She’s more than that, you know.” The words spill out, and once I start I can’t stop. I jump up, dropping the jacket and blanket behind me. I pad toward him, standing there covered in glitter, my corset hoisting my breasts to my throat and my thong revealing my entire backside.
Jon realizes how it sounded and attempts to correct, but he’s already flown that thought into a mountainside. “I know, but—”
“No little girl says, ‘I want to be a stripper when I grow up.’ Not one of us would sell sex if there’d been another way to survive. Every single woman who works here has the same story—fucked up life, no money, and no hope. Don’t you dare damn her for it! If you do, you’re damning me, too, and I refuse to accept your pity, or whatever the hell this is.” I’m in his face, an inch from his nose, breathing hard. It looks like I’m going to pop out of my corset every time I breathe. Mounds of flesh swell well above the low neckline, glittering like twin disco balls.
I expect him to look at me, but he doesn’t. Jon presses his lips together, letting his silence build between us while the others stare in shock. When his blue gaze lifts to meet mine, he tips his head to the side. No trace of a smile softens his lips. Nothing subdues his sharp look. “You don’t know Sean. He’d show up with a corpse if it suited him.”
Something inside me snaps. I straighten, laughing bitterly. “You’re an asshole.”
“No, I’m not. I’m just saying—”
“Shut up, man. She hears exactly what you’re saying.” Trystan peers around the girl in his lap, forgetting his own awkward situation for the moment. The girl sits perfectly still, but I can see her thoughts running wild behind her eyes.
Jon growls, “No, she doesn’t. This isn’t about any of you. It’s about my brother and me.” There’s obviously a huge rift between Jon and Sean, but he’s poking a bear with Pixy Stix. What does he think is going to happen?
“It might also be about your apparent distaste for working girls.” Avery folds her arms over her chest and juts one hip to the side, glaring at him. “So, Little Ferro, spill it. Did your first hooker mistreat you? Or was it one of your strippers?”
Jon’s body tenses and he sits so still he might explode. It’s the moment of utter silence before a bomb detonates and blasts everything around it to bits. One of his fingers presses into the chair, and I see something flash across his face. It’s raw, a wound that’s still weeping.
He’s quiet for a moment, swallows hard, then stands and walks into the office. The door closes soundlessly behind him. Something happened to him. I’m sure of that. Someone hurt him badly.
Apparently Avery senses it too because she slips off the edge of the stage and rushes toward me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
I glance at the closed door and then back to her pale face. “Neither did I. I’m not sure any of us did.”
CHAPTER 2, JON
I feel like a fucking idiot walking away to hide in the office. I’m not a kid anymore. This shit shouldn’t bother me, but it’s always lurking—ready to rear its fuck-ugly face when I least expect it. Of course they all think I had hookers and strippers. I’m not a priest. I’m a Ferro. I live up to my reputation and then some. But that’s not what made me back down. I know I don’t see things accurately at times. I know my past taints my vision, clouds it, and makes me respond in the worst possible ways.
I sit down at the desk and stare at the packet of papers. I wonder if I’m reacting to Sean or my past. How can I protect Cass when I can’t even deal with this?
There’s a knock on my door, and before I can answer, Avery steps inside.
“Hey," she says, "I didn’t mean to do that.” She's standing there, her long brown hair sweeping over her shoulders and a somber expression on her face. She steps around the door, pushing it shut behind her with the heel of her foot. No shoes.
“You didn’t do anything.” I’m not telling her shit. She’ll report back to Sean, and I don’t want him involved in this. His chance to intercede is long gone.
I shuffle through the stack of papers on the desk, ignoring Sean’s envelope. I’ll look at it when she leaves.
“Maybe not, but it seemed like I found a sore spot and ripped it wide open.”
I act like it doesn’t matter. I’m not telling her shit. “I misspoke. Cassie is hurting. It was reasonable to assume I insulted all of you.”
Avery stops in front of my desk, turns to a ninety-degree angle from me, and rests her denim-clad hip against it. She folds her arms loosely across her chest. “We’re all hurting.”
I glance up at her. Is that a hint? Is something going on with my brother? “Sean included?”
Her eyes dart to the side. She pushes off the desk and looks at a picture of the club on the wall. All the dancers are standing with the bouncers and the former owner, posing as if it were a yearbook picture. “You don’t know him anymore, do you?”
“There’s nothing about him that’s worth knowing.” I sound like a cold motherfucker, like I don't give a shit about my brother, but the tightening sensation in my chest tells me otherwise. The growing unease in my stomach, the way it twists like it’s filled with shards of glass, reminds me of something I don’t want to admit. I suppress it with one swift blow, forcing my emotions back down where they belong. “Maybe you don’t know, so I’ll tell you the drive-by version. Sean thinks I’m a piece of shit stuck to his shoe. No one willingly walks through shit, Avery. He’s here to save his ass. It has nothing to do with me.”
“You don’t know him.”
I appreciate the audacity of this woman. This is the first conversation we’ve had, beyond initial pleasantries, and she’s picking a fight? I lean back in my chair and look at her. She’s smart. I'd bet anything that she’s scanning that picture for Cassie’s face. It’s not there. Cass always dodges pictures, probably because of her ex.
I roll my eyes and sit up quickly, reshuffling papers that don’t need it. “I don’t want to know him. There’s nothing there worth saving, no way we’ll ever be anything but blood. I don’t give a shit what he does or if someone puts a bullet in his head. Actually, I’ve been waiting for it to happen. Between his past and the shitstorm in the press, it’s only a matter of time. I wouldn’t get too attached, Avery.” It’s a dick thing to say, but this conversation is over.
She takes the hint and heads to the door. Her hand rests on the knob for a second then she looks over her shoulder at me. “Too late. I’m already attached.” She smiles sadly, watching me un
til I meet her eyes. “And no matter what you think, Sean cares about you. I see it in his eyes. I hear it in his voice when he talks about you. Think what you want, but take it from someone who knows what it’s like to be utterly alone—Sean’s here out of more than loyalty. You’re more than blood to him. I’ll see you around.” She walks through the door without waiting for a reply.
Continue reading STRIPPED 2 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