The tsk in his brother's voice echoed their father's. John's lip curled as Peter said, "While you were outside playing football, I was stuck inside making sure Dad's books were balanced."
Perhaps there was another side to their story, but feeling sympathy for Peter? He crossed his arms. "You could have come outside."
"No, I couldn't. If I didn't comply, he'd have gone after either you or Victoria, leaving none of us the option for fun."
John froze. Peter had no right to talk about their sister as if he was protecting her. He hadn't cared what happened. "You weren't some hero. Vicki's dead, just like our mom."
"I don't want to bring her up," Peter said. "Mom didn't die. She walked out the door and never came home."
John lifted his chin. Peter sounded like their father, and he'd not let his guard down. No, now was not the time. He refused to share his plans with Peter and argue with his brother about the past. He looked at his watch. In twenty minutes, whoever Peter hired to speak would start. Their father didn't have one person here who truly mourned for him. He glanced at the door. "We should go. Why aren't you speaking?"
"Why aren't you?""
Did you need me to answer that?"
Peter nodded. "The funeral is tomorrow. That's where my strengths have to be. I am glad you're here."
John stilled. Strengths were for important matters. "Why? Are you giving the eulogy then?"
"Someone has to. You have every right to speak if you want."
No. Peter was welcome to pretend to care, but if John spoke he'd accuse his father of murder in front of the enormous crowd. John refused to be that spectacle. His father didn't deserve that he humiliate himself on top of everything else. "Absolutely not."
Peter breathed deep and got to his feet. "Then it has to be me."
Standing as well, John shook his head, his hand on the door. "No, it doesn't. The church can be silent or we can just let the President have his say and whoever else wishes to tell us how Dad was a wonderful, salt-of-the-earth type of guy."
Peter's dark eyebrows quirked. "Salt of the earth? Who would say that?"
He smiled. At least Peter wasn't a complete fool. "I'm sure someone."
Peter lowered his face and kept his voice low. "I'm tired of fighting, John."
They never spoke, so they never fought. John pressed his lips together. Peter had a plan. He shouldn't care, but what if his brother was telling the truth? John opened the door. "Me, too. I'm not staying for the hired performer tonight. I'm exhausted. Bye."
Peter walked behind him. "I'll see you tomorrow."
John's gaze landed on Alice as she slipped out the front door. He sighed. The only light in this place was now gone. John stared at the room full of strangers as Peter walked away with his girlfriend on his arm. John's hands clenched. He'd show up tomorrow. Whatever Peter thought their father might bequeath him left him with nothing but guesses.
Chapter 4
Alice picked up her phone and then put it down. She'd call her mother after she checked into the hotel. She handed over the SUV keys to the valet and ignored his nose curl. She'd still tip the man, but so what if she didn't drive a Maserati like the customer behind her?
She filed the paperwork and tucked her phone in her purse as the late afternoon sky suffocated the air. Her mother had told her to call right after the wake, but if she dialed, Ellie would chirp louder than the wild parrots in the palm trees above her head. Ellie Collins could wait.
The tropical paradise of this deluxe hotel offered a stark contrast to the funeral home. The clear blue sky with spots of white clouds and happy birds in palm trees helped steal the tension from her body.
She strolled past the fountain and into a marble-floored lobby. The Biltmore was iconic old Miami, built in the 1920s with lofted ceilings, an inner courtyard famous for its outside seating, unlimited Bellinis for Sunday brunch, and one of the best spas in the country. Her heels sank into the plush red carpet as she walked toward the mahogany desk to check in.
She gazed through the French doors to the outside tropical paradise which enticed her with the sound of bubbling water. For one night, she was living it up, and she intended to take a long swim in the morning in that perfectly blue pool.
A dip in the waters would help her forget all about John Morgan and that wake. Tonight, she'd dream that John Morgan's lips touched hers. Of course they hadn't, but her lips tingled with a long-ago high school memory.
Her mother would tell her to never see or think about John Morgan. Ellie had serious issues with the House of Morgan that extended to all of their children. Mom hadn't even been sad when Vicki died. Instead she'd been stoic and not said a word as Alice cried that her childhood friend was dead.
She sighed. Perhaps she needed to think of happier moments.
Above her head the pillars to the high, painted ceilings overwhelmed her sense of awe. This place smelled like money, which was strange for her, since Alice needed to budget.
With a nose twitch, she shook her head and realized that thought came from Jennifer's little jab about her black dress. Normal people budgeted and, once in a while, splurged. The super starlet didn't get to judge her life.
She reached the desk and waited for the man behind it to finish his phone conversation and then speak to her.
Finally his gaze met hers as he ended his call, and she told him, "I'm checking in. Alice Collins."
"Ms. Collins." Another man behind the counter stepped forward as the original clerk stepped back. He wore a red uniform, but his was more formal. The clerk stepped aside, and the hotel manager with a pin on his name badge waved his hand to his right. "We're happy you chose our hotel for your overnight stay. There is a gentleman here to see you."
Impossible. Her dad was in Homestead packing up his house, and her brother was still in the Marines. As that was the extent of the men in her life, she shook her head, "A gentleman? Who is he?"
"I'm not at liberty to answer, ma'am."
"Did you ask what he wanted?"
He averted his gaze. "It wasn't my place."
She swallowed. With a thump, she released the handle of her black rolling suitcase and leaned on the counter. "And you didn't get his name to share with me?"
"I cannot say."
It had been a tiring day. She kept her tone even and said, "So he could be some crazy person."
"I assure you, he's not."
Clearly she wouldn't get anywhere with this manager. She crossed her arms and stepped backwards. "I don't want to go meet strange men. I'd like to just check in, please."
The man's expression fell, but Alice stood tall. The manager typed into the computer and said, "Your room won't be available for another hour. I'm very sorry, miss."
How convenient. She wasn't fooled. "How much did this man pay you to get me to talk to him?"
The clerk averted his face and stared at his computer as his manager said, "I don't know what you mean."
Lies didn't invoke trust. She pressed her lips together. "Of course you don't. It was only perfect timing."
He stayed silent.
There was no other choice. She was in no danger except being annoyed with whoever delayed her. "If I go, will my room be ready sooner?"
"I will see to it that your room is ready upon your return."
She narrowed her stare until he flushed. "Sure, okay. If anything happens to me, I'll sue and own this place."
The man smiled like she'd just saved his life or the life of someone he loved. "Of course, miss, you will most assuredly be fine."
She snapped her fingers at her sides. Of course. She let out a breath she hadn't known she held and followed him outside to the Cascade Patio near the pool. Metallic chairs were filled with people lounging by the blue waters, but she didn't recognize anyone. If it was a stranger, she'd run the other direction.
Without warning, her escort stopped near the bar. She scanned the area for someone she knew. Then her heart contracted as she stared into the blue eyes of John Morgan.
John stood up as she walked toward him, and her heart skipped a beat. His broad shoulders and open smile invited her to throw herself into his arms. He wore the pants he'd had on for the wake, and a white shirt that was now unbuttoned a few notches. The shirt melded to every hard muscle of his body. Along his travels to the hotel, he'd lost the jacket and tie, amplifying pure masculinity.
She opened her mouth and tried to speak, but no words formed. Refusing to act like an idiot, she inhaled and forced herself to sound normal. "I didn't expect to see you."
He kept his hands to his sides and offered a small smile without the dimples. "I am sorry, Alice. I was rude and I wanted to tell you that in person."
With a lift of her chin, she focused on her questions and not on how her mind went blank near him. "How did you know I was here?"
"After you left, I talked with Mr. Soliz and he told me."
He was so tight in the shoulders. Her gaze honed in on the slight bump from a break of his nose during a football game. "Mr. Soliz? You mean Rafe? We went to school with him."
"I thought he looked familiar, but didn't remember from where."
Figured. She stood on her tiptoes to get him to look her in the eye. It was time he stopped forgetting about the past. "What do you remember?"
"That I was angry at my brother, and myself, for being at the wake. I was rude to you, and I came to apologize."
With words like that, she'd fall to his feet in worship. He didn't have to say them. Her body melted a little that he did though, and she smiled. "Your dad just died. You're easily forgiven."
With a nod he said, "It's not your fault that my family bought you off."
Alice winced but then relaxed. How misguided his opinions were—misguided and wrong. She kept her voice even. "When someone signs a business contract to sell in the market, it makes them partners. It's called the free market, not the slave market."
Outside the bar someone splashed at the pool beyond the window. John's shoulders slumped. "And my family takes advantage to control the free part."
She tilted her head. He apologized for the entirely wrong things, but now wasn't the time to sound like a harpy. "Now that is true, but I don't blame you for that. No one forced my family into any contracts to make money. What offended me at the funeral parlor was how you acted as if you couldn't be bothered with someone who did business with your family. We were friends, John. Never think I'd betray anything you'd ever say or do."
"I didn't. Not really." His gaze remained full of judgment, but then she might be reading him wrong. She swallowed as he said, "I tend to jump to the worst conclusions when it comes to my family's business policies. I apologize. Would you like a drink?"
"No, thanks. I want to know you're okay."
"Why do you care?"
"You're Vicki's brother." Her chest tightened and she rubbed the back of her neck. Why not tell him the truth? Neither of them were children and she'd never see him again once the funeral was over and he went back to wherever he was from. "I went to your football games because I had the biggest crush on you then."
"A crush? You? Alice, I didn't know." His face softened and the outlines of his dimples puckered his cheeks.
Sexiness was no reason to fall apart. She straightened the hem of her dress, wishing she'd worn something sexier—though he'd told her earlier that she filled out her dress just fine. "Now you do. It was a long time ago."
He appeared caught off guard by her declaration. She looked into his deep blue eyes and he took a step backwards. "Because of my family money?"
"No. Don't be rude again." Her heartbeat was so rapid that she feared losing her ability to speak but she fought through because she needed to finish what she'd started. She held the back of her bar stool. "Because you never treated me like a peasant that your sister brought home from the streets."
His smile faltered as he studied her. She felt like an ice cube that had been out in the sun too long. For relief, she stepped into the shadows as he then said, "Alice, you went to school with us. Your family is far from the peasant class in any century."
The oranges up north ensured that her family stayed millionaires as long as the farm stayed productive. She blinked. "Not everyone in your family agrees."
He softened his voice. "Peter?"
Guessed right the first time. His brother had said that her contract depended on getting John to the funeral. She coughed and then stared back at him. "Yeah."
His shoulders relaxed as he stepped closer to her with a genuine smile on his face. "I'm glad I asked the concierge to bring you to me."
Unsure how she became so lightheaded so fast, she hung onto her chair. The air around her smelled like cedar and pine trees and John. She hoped she'd get the thump of her heart under control before she lost her precious control. "Is that what this was? I thought I was summoned."
"Summoned? I can't command anything from you. You can go if you wish." The last thing she wanted was to leave his side.
Then he offered his arm. "I hope you'll stay, though. I don't want to spend the night alone. I just spent the evening with people I no longer wish to know, and I could use your company."
Heat rose to her cheekbones and she’d have bet she was blushing. All her life, she'd dreamed John would be hers. To build a wall, she crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I'm not inviting you into my room, if that's the implication."
"No." He smiled at her. His warm gaze sent her heart into a tizzy. She dropped her arms to her side as he said, "I was hoping you'd have dinner with me here, and maybe a drink. I have a suite on the thirteenth floor."
A drink and dinner with her Prince Charming. She must be dreaming. Maybe she should throw caution to the wind for one night with John. She was an adult now, and her reactions to him sent her body into overdrive. The House of Morgan always controlled the deck of cards, but soon enough he'd be gone back to wherever he came.
In the future, she'd still be here and end up married to someone who could tolerate farm life. This night might be all she'd ever get of John Morgan. She shrugged her shoulders. "If you are afraid of bad luck or Al Capone's hauntings, you might want to change floors."
"Nope." John held out his hand. "Will you hang out with me tonight?"
Hang out was far too tame for her thoughts. Alice brushed her fingers down his thin, long-sleeved shirt, until she reached his hand. Her flesh seemed electrified. If he touched her bare skin, she'd wrap her arms around him, wanting to see every part of his body. This neediness was so unlike her. She wanted to agree with anything he said when she usually questioned everything. "Sure. Let me go change. Meet you here in an hour?"
At least she sounded normal. Earlier she couldn't even do that. She leaned into him as he said, "Perfect, and thank you."
She tilted her head. "For what?"
His dimpled smile drew her into a dream as he said, "For forgiving me so fast."
The wake seemed a long time ago now. "In the House of Morgan, no one taught you to let things go?"
The no he gave when he shook his head didn't match the humorous gleam in his eyes. "No, that wasn't one of the lessons."
She turned to leave the bar, but peeked behind her. John watched her and his muscular body combined with those blue eyes and dazzling smile triggered something deep inside her. This was her fantasy coming true, so she'd enjoy every moment until it was over. "Well then, welcome to Alice's worldview tonight. You might regret this tomorrow."
He winked at her. "Somehow I doubt it."
With a spring in her step, she sashayed from the pool and picked up her room key and bag. John said hang out, but this was one night where she could pretend to be Cinderella. Alone in the elevator, she licked her lips and wondered what John's kiss would taste like. She'd bet it was tastier tha
n the freshest strawberries from their fields.
Chapter 5
Once inside the elegant hotel room, Alice picked up her phone and stared at the screen. Her mother had called. She rolled her shoulders. No, she'd not report in—she chose to let it charge instead.
Tonight she had her fantasy date with John. Her dreams mattered too. She wouldn't let anyone's opinion sway her, especially since it concerned a Morgan.
Adrenaline pumped in her veins as she rushed around the room to get ready. Out of her two dresses, she chose the silky black one with the lower neckline and would keep the sweetheart with the flared hem for tomorrow. Her just-in-case-something-happened backup dress was now her date dress.
She'd packed two pairs of underwear. If she wore the lacy silk ones tonight, tomorrow she'd be at the funeral in her plain cotton panties that might show a line across her backside. The cameras wouldn't focus on her, so she chose the sexier pair. Tonight she was the star. Tomorrow, she'd keep her hands to her sides and slink into a pew.
She fixed her hair as straight as it could in this humidity. At the mirror, she ensured her makeup was flawless. Everything had to be perfect.
Satisfied with how the neckline revealed her assets, Alice stared at her necklace. The Tiffany gold that Victoria gave her somehow glowed brighter. Should she take it off? Would her friend be upset if she slept with John? So she asked, "Do I have your permission to go out with your brother?"
Alice's face grew a wicked grin as she imagined Vicki saying, Please take him off my hands.
Vicki'd had a sense of timing and had known what to say to everyone. She left the necklace around her neck. Alice always asked herself WWVD, which meant what would Vicki do, if she ever found herself shy. Done, she turned away and grabbed her pocketbook. With confidence in every step, she left her room.
[House of Morgan 01.0 - 03.0] Boxed Set Page 4