OCTOBER
How is this the beginning?
Oct 12, 2016
Weight: 119 pounds
Ate: Guacamole and an apple
Dear Diary,
Mitch is dead. I just saw it on the news. How did Peter not call me? He must be devastated. I’m throwing on black and heading over to his mansion.
He’ll be happy to see me. Yup.
I quickly showered and rushed around the house. This was too much. I needed to be fast.
He’d know if I didn’t just hear the news if I wear too much makeup.
Drat.
I checked my phone. Tomorrow I had filming at 8 which meant I needed to be at the studio at 5 for makeup.
One day soon, I’ll stop filming telenovellas.
My agent. Yes. Tomorrow I’ll call her. But for now, I need to see Peter.
There. I look stricken and my face is white without any glitter.
Now I just need to grab a cocktail dress for my car and shoes.
Peter could be throwing a small get together. It was best if I prepared myself.
But if not, then I’ll wear my pants and this black shirt that shows off my chest.
Done. I raced out of my condo, locked the door, good. And waved to the front desk people.
There I was being nice.
Good. The valet brought my car to me and I hopped into my Mercedes. The air condition blasted as palm trees waved on the side of Ocean Drive.
But I kept a fast pace and didn’t care that anyone might see me right now.
Finally I made it to the highway that brought me to Starr Island.
I waved at the guard who let me on the exclusive streets.
As I pulled into Peter’s driveway I didn’t see any cars. So no party.
Probably good. His father would throw a fantastic, whose who funeral anyhow.
Not that it mattered. I was here to prove to Peter I was good enough for him.
No. That sounds really, really bad. I’m here to prove my love for him. He should know how I feel. I swear I’m going to tell him.
I rang the doorbell and wished Peter would open it for me.
However it buzzed and I was let into the biggest mansion on Starr Island. This place was built as a museum in many ways. Peter’s father liked to flaunt his wealth and made his mansion rival any European royalty home.
The art deco just made the white and earth colored marbles impossible to clean without a staff.
My nose turned as I headed into the living room that had a painted mural for a roof and a glass view of the ocean. However my lips thinned as I saw Caro was on her hands and knees scrubbing the marble floor in a black maid’s uniform. There was absolutely no way I’d be like her, EVER. I can’t go backwards, not know.
And somehow I needed to help Caro too. She didn’t deserve to be on her hands and knees. She was Rafe’s little sister. I should probably flip the page and add that Caro’s the closest thing I have to a sister.
However I didn’t say a word. I headed up the grand staircase and headed right to Peter’s room.
There he was. He was on his balcony, looking out at the ocean, with a drink in hand.
He needed to know I cared. I needed to show him. It was time. So I tugged my black shirt off, and let my pants drop as I crossed his bedroom floor to get him.
Tonight, it was just going to be him and me. Maybe after the funeral, I’ll tell him.
The House of Morgan
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For some, joining the FBI is a long-term goal. For billionaire John Morgan, joining the Bureau is a stepping stone to proving his father is culpable for his sister’s death. After his estranged father dies, John is forced to return home and face the ghosts of his past. But that proves to be more difficult than he ever imagined.
After losing her best friend under inexplicable circumstances, Alice Collins’ world view shifts until her small town sensibilities convinced her to attend Mr. Morgan’s funeral. Soon, the past and the present collide, and Alice is caught in the crosshairs. But when John comes to her aid, it only serves to complicate matters for both of them.
Can a handsome billionaire on a vendetta fall for a small town girl…or does he have something else in mind?
Fans of Jackie Collins, Danielle Steele, and Bella Andre are addicted to this sweet contemporary romance series!
