Secret Bet

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Belle's entire body stayed tense as she wandered through the mansion. On the wall hung original paintings she had seen at museums. She hugged her stomach again. No wonder Colt chose Victoria. The Morgans had serious money. She had bare walls, half dead plants, and two bedrooms. The balcony overlooking the bay was reminiscent of Venice.

In class and upbringing, she'd never have a shot at true love. She rubbed the goose bumps on her arms as she sighed and gazed at a Monet. She'd seen it at the Smithsonian with a borrowed sign. They must have borrowed from the Morgans.

In Miami, and in the House of Morgan, the warm sunshine of the day ensured the evenings were pleasant and warm. Every Morgan must have enjoyed extravagance and money provided without once struggling.

Next to the Monet was a Van Gogh. She leaned closer to inspect. They must be the originals. The Morgans owned a chunk of the world's economy, and this luxury must be why Victoria thought it was fine to lie to everyone about dying. Belle would never be so reckless. She took care of herself and her family with hard work and determination.

Colt stepped away from his gorgeous blue-eyed bride to come over. Belle averted her gaze from the Van Gogh to the next painting. She wasn't sure of the painter as the signature was illegible, but it seemed familiar. She straightened her shoulders.

As she smelled Colt's cologne in the air, no pang in her heart came. She still stiffened like she was about to go into battle as he nodded and stood beside her. "We're glad you're here."

Her muscles jumped out of her skin. "Glad I could be here."

"Belle, I truly hope you can be happy."

His big eyes held something unsaid. Whatever it was, it wasn't her problem. Not anymore. If he didn't want her here, then he shouldn't have sent two invitations.

She polished a speck of dirt off her wrist. "Great. I hope the same thing. Your Victoria is waiting for you over there."

"I love her. She loves me. You are so great. I'm sure you'll be next to fall in love and find happiness."

No chance of that happening to her. She couldn't have swallowed if she tried at the moment. There was a pain in her throat.

She nodded, though the cords in her neck were tight. "Okay, perfect. Thank you so much. You should go now."

"I will. If you ever need me, I'm still your friend."

She winced. In the desert, he was one of the few people she knew without a doubt had her back. She shivered and held a whimper in her voice. "We were always that, weren't we?"

“Yes and I hope we still can be.”

“I’m here. The rest we’ll see.”

As soon as she could, she slipped out of the gallery hall and onto the patio. People in colorful dresses milled outside as they sipped colorful drinks. She held her hand up and bit one of her nails. A beer would suit her fine.

Heat washed through her. Then with a tremble, it slowed. The dark-haired, brown-eyed muscular man in a suit, who had stood next to Colt in the room, now walked over and slipped out the door. She clenched her hands at her side as he came and stood next to her.

He licked his lips. "Would you like a drink?"

Her shoulders went up like they'd serve as a shield. "How do I know it's not drugged?"

"Yes, this is Florida, but drugs aren't my scene." He swallowed. "You were hugging my sister, Vicki. I'll introduce myself. I'm Peter Morgan, and you are?"

"You're the Peter Morgan?"

The Morgan family was old money, and his name appeared in Fortune 500 regularly. His political candidates, with the sizable donations he offered, could outweigh any organized lobby effort. Her boss had set a clear rule to avoid the corporations that might interfere with their agenda. Morgan Enterprises was on the list. Despite the tension running through her muscles, she gripped her hands together and stood still.

"Your company is in contract negotiations with Century Arms to help supply the army?"

He scratched his chin. "I think so, but that’s a very small part of my business. And your name is?"

A man like this one could have anyone he wanted. The smell of oak trees washed through her. She lifted her chin. "Belle Jordan. I work in contracts for Century Arms."

His mouth opened. "So you are the Belle Jordan once engaged to Colt Collins?"

Her lips pursed. "The same. Can I get you the drink now?"

"I suppose. I usually get the lady her drink."

“Welcome to the twenty first century.” Billionaire playboys shouldn't smell like oak trees. He inched closer to her and more goose bumps spread and were probably on every inch of her skin now.

"Tell you what. Why don’t we go together to the bar and watch the drink get poured.”

“Safe.” As they strolled, she winked, “Don’t trust a woman then. I understand. You should protect your virtue at all costs.”

A smile grew on his face. “I'm surprised you're here for the wedding."

Men like this did not talk to girls like her. She swallowed as they stopped near bar stools. "You and me both."

“I’ll have a dirty martini.” She told the bartender.

Peter nodded. “Make that two then.”

“I thought rich men like yourself drink whiskey neat or cognac.”

“I can live dangerously.” Drinks were ordered and she turned toward Peter. He was so close he might touch her bare arms at any moment.

“That’s good for you. I prefer a more sedate life these days. I’m sure my interests are too simple for you.”

“Interesting. You want simple.” Fire grew inside her as he asked, "Let’s do that. Do you like what you do?"

Perhaps she hadn't just said Century Arms or that she ensured the military had the best options available in weapons. Her mind swirled. She didn't have to say anything. He would have no idea what she did. She pressed her lips together. "I like ensuring I have a roof over my head, that my father can take cruises whenever he wishes now, and that I have a semblance of security."

He tilted his head closer. "I pay people to handle security for me, but I'm surprised Century Arms affords you all that."

She stood still, unsure if she wanted to leave. A warm breeze brushed against her spine.

"I am good at what I do, and I like to do things for myself."

The bartender offered them both their drinks. His gaze narrowed. "Are you always this dry?"

There it was, right on schedule. Men who had everything were usually the worst lots to speak to.

"Yes. I'm quite boring. You should leave now and save yourself the trouble of talking to me. I'm quite sure someone here will find you interesting, like that dark haired beauty who keeps staring."

He didn’t blink in the direction she pointed. His entire focus was on her. She could hardly breath as he said, "I meant dry as in funny and interesting."

Funny wasn’t a word that was usually linked to her. His hands went into his pockets. She glanced at his face and saw the dimples appear. "Ahh. Well then, next time be clear."

"Boom. You don't hold back punches."

‘Go away' was on the tip of her tongue, but she bit her lip closed. Her skin zapped near him. She rubbed her neck. "No, I don't like to waste my time or anyone else's."

"You're not a waste of time."

He must be kidding. His soft voice was sexy. She wouldn't be charmed. She rolled her eyes. "Sure thing, Romeo."

A waiter walked past them with a tray full of champagne. He picked two glasses up and handed one to her. She took a deep breath and accepted the glass. The air around her at the moment was magnetic. She couldn't walk away from him right now.

“This is a lot of alcohol.”

“Drunk women don’t interest me, but I’m sure you can choose what you want.”

She took the champagne as both their martinis were untouched. It seemed a waste, but she held her tongue. As the waiter left, Peter clinked their glasses together. "Cheers."

Was this because they had spoken for more than a minute? She had never spoken to a man that made her stomach get butterflies.

She sipped her glass. "To what?"

"To our new friendship."

She stepped away. Peter Morgan and the entire Morgan family would never be her friends. But being near Peter caused adrenaline to pump through her veins. She'd have to call Emily and find out what was taking her friends so long to arrive.

She needed backup, but right now she shook her head. "We have a friendship? This fast? I’m flattered."

"Belle Jordan, I'd prefer to keep you on the friend list. I'd hate to have you as an enemy."

Enemies were almost easier to handle than her attraction with the head of the Morgan family. She sipped her drink again. "I don't do friendships much with strange men I meet at parties who I’ll never see again."

He brushed his arm against her. "Take a chance. I'll get us out of this party early, and we can go get dinner."

The door would be lovely. Colt kissed his new bride's cheek, and the woman's smile grew. Her lips tingled near Peter. If she left with him, she'd be in worse trouble. She gulped her drink. "Okay. I came to make an appearance. If you can get us out in five minutes, I'm in for dinner."

"Consider it done."

That was the opposite of what she had intended to say. Peter walked away to go speak to Colt. She squared her shoulders and sipped her drink. None of these people knew her. She was safe in a crowd. She swallowed. Alone with a man like Peter, she might act out of character.

A woman with long, black hair and a body meant for a super model almost knocked the almost empty drink out of Belle's hand. She flipped her messy mop of a hair away from the glamazon.

The woman pouted and then glared. "Watch where you are going."

Belle clutched her drink stem. "You ran into me."

She'd have definitely been the poster child for the in-crowd of high school. The woman posed with one leg out to her side, like a ballerina about to take off.

"Are you going home with Peter Morgan?"

No. s*x was not on the agenda, but this stranger had no business in her life. She finished her drink with her last gulp. She pressed her lips together and intended not to say a word, but women like the one whose eyes made her feel judged rubbed Belle the wrong way.

"Jealous it's not you?"

A wide, knowing smile flashed. This woman knew Peter, well.

Belle hugged her stomach as the woman retorted, "I can take that train ride away from you with a snap of my fingers, and we both know it."

Peter put his arm around Colt's shoulder in the other room. She turned and glanced at the gorgeous woman that stood in front of her. It was silly that someone with his dark eyes, money, and strong shoulders saw her as anything remotely interesting. This woman had no right to judge, though.

"Are you here to threaten me to stay away from him?"

Her bright red lips pouted as her fake chest popped out. "No, he is no longer mine. I am here to give you a warning. He will sleep with you and never call again."

On that they both had the same belief, though she had no idea why Peter Morgan had spent more than a minute with her. She gazed at him as he now laughed at something Colt said. Their arms touched like they were friends.

Belle then rolled her eyes at this olive-skinned woman. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Besides, he's not your type."

The reasons didn't have to insult her. She pressed her lips together. "What is my type?"

"Someone you can boss around. You've too much iron in how you stand."

Her fingers clenched. The nights in Miami were hot, humid, and heavy, but clearly the air took away people's brains.

"And who are you to know anything about me?"

"I'm Jennifer Gonzales. I'm Victoria's best friend."

That did not compute. Her one evening with Victoria in the past, and Colt's years of speaking of her, made Victoria seem angelic. Peter was the clear agenda here. Belle placed her glass on the table beside her. She tapped her shoe against the floor and then snapped her finger.

"I can't imagine anyone like you with Colt. He's always preferred Victoria, even as children. Is that why you are going home with Peter?"

“Is he yours then?”

“No.”

"Then we’re done talking.”

“I want to tell you…”

“Boundaries exist for a reason." This woman was clearly not happy and had butted into her choices long enough. At least Belle's body temperature cooled off. She shook her head. "This conversation is over."

Victoria came barreling toward them and stepped in front of Jennifer. She then wrapped her arms around her and said, "Belle, I wanted to say thank you for coming."

Jennifer's face contorted. Belle stared at Vicki and smiled.

This was all too much.

Belle told them both, "I'm tired."

Vicki scratched her head. "Really? Peter said you're both off to get dinner."

Her voice squeaked. Heat spiked inside her. "He did?"

Jennifer threw her arms to her side and sashayed to another dark-haired man. Both Belle and Vicki stared at her in silence for a full minute.

Victoria then stepped in front of her. "Yeah. My brother and Jennifer were a thing, and I don't know if she's let go. Don't let whatever happened interfere with my brother. I'm hoping you both hit it off."

At least his sister hadn't approved of whatever happened with Jennifer. Belle's estimation increased of the woman she was supposed to despise on principle. Tingles grew all over her body, again. There was no way the American royalty type mixed with her blood. Victoria was likely saying that to cover how she ruined her almost happy marriage to her old partner.

Instead she pointed toward the patio and Jennifer. "Ignore her."

"She said she was your friend and that I should stay away from your brother. Do you think the same?"

"My opinion on my brother's life doesn't matter." Victoria crossed her arms and then nodded. "Though Jennifer and Peter are like oil and water. Don't take whatever she said to heart."

If Peter had chosen the gorgeous model type, then there was zero way she should spend time with him. Instead Belle simply said, "If you say so."

Peter was close. She could feel his presence as her heart sped faster.