The Arrangement 25 (The Ferro Family)

  The Arrangement 25

  The Ferro Family

  H.M. Ward

  H.M. Ward Press

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 by H.M. Ward

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form.

  LAREE BAILEY PRESS

  First Edition: Feb 2019

  ISBN ebook: 978-1-63035-232-5

  ISBN paperback: 978-1-63035-233-2

  Contents

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  NEW FREE PROLOGUE

  ALL THE BROKEN PIECES

  Free Sample

  UPCOMING RELEASES BY H.M. WARD

  COMPLETED SERIES BY H.M. WARD

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  ABOUT H.M. WARD

  CHAPTER 1

  MANHATTAN, NEW YORK

  Standing on the penthouse balcony later that night, I rest my palms on the thick metal railing to let the coldness bite into my skin. Swallowing hard, I peer down at the cars below with their red lights blinking as they crawl forward an inch and stop. The sounds of the city were once a symphony of delight. I loved it here. Now it’s noise. Heavy and oppressive. Sighing deeply, I lift my eyes to the park across the street, allowing my gaze to skim the treetops looking for something to settle on—something to make me feel grounded. Anything that allows me to know I’m anchored. Safe.

  The treetops look like jagged fingers of an ancient witch. They wiggle, casting spells and coldness. There’s nothing. Nothing solid to see and tether me to sanity. I feel the frayed edges of my mind weeping. They cry out day and night, “Remember what you’ve done.” It’s become an ominous chant that never ceases. The blood on my hands will never dry, never wash away. There’s a reason why I haven’t mentally shattered all over Manhattan. A reason why I must find a way to continue. I place my palm on my expanding belly.

  I will not break. For them. For Sean. For me. I will not break. The words are a whisper in my mind worn thin from overuse. Still, it’s all I have holding me together.

  Closing my eyes, my mind wanders, retreats to the place where calmness floods my veins. Inhaling the crisp air deeply, I release my stranglehold on the railing and finally, I can see it in my mind’s eye—feel it. It’s like I’m back at that beach house, padding down a path lined with smooth stepping stones. Indigenous flowers line the edges of the stone walk, jutting up from the sandy earth in plumes of blue and pink. The sounds of waves lapping the shore fill my ears, but I still can’t see the ocean.

  My mental stroll continues as I pass the clear blue pool that lies directly outside the floor to ceiling windows of the great house. The waters glow turquoise as sunlight kisses the ripples of the pool, scattering sparkles.

  A memory slashes through my daydream, and forces its way in. Ribbons of blood fill the gem-colored water before the bodies appear, floating face down. That night, I thought I lost Sean. I thought that was him.

  It wasn’t Sean. He’s alive. We are both alive and home. Tightening my eyes, I shake the memory away.

  Meditation is important. It’s become part of my life. Dr. Chan told me to focus, not to let the numbness overtake me again. She doesn’t realize I’m at an impasse. I can accept my past if I allow the lack of feeling to overtake me, but if not—I can’t.

  Accepting what I’ve done will destroy me. As it is, my mental state feels fragile, weak. I hate being this vulnerable.

  The irony of the moment is so bitter, I want to spit. Shaking my head, I back up and sit on a fluffy blue chair with ornate scrolling on the arms. Then I lean back against a tufted leather pillow that’s buttery soft. Lowering my head, I cup my face with my hands and swallow the sobs that want to cry out. This is who I wanted to be when I met Sean. I wanted this. The eternal numbness. To feel nothing. To be ruthless. I would have traded my soul to get it. Maybe I did, because my insides feel so hollow right now.

  Fight, Avery. Push it back. My inner voice chides, weak, but not entirely gone. The blissful numbness that I desired most is here but I no longer want it. The problem is, part of me craves that sense of nothingness. The void that would swallow me, assuage my guilt, and leave me to move forward with my life. It’s the easy path. One step down that road and I won’t come back, but it beckons to me. Calling out like a lifeline that can save me when all others have failed.

  I will not break.

  Sean is no longer barren of emotion. There are moments that come like a reflex where he chokes it out, but then something within him changes. He can release the feeling and share it with me. Show other people. Even the assholes on the street who think he killed Amanda—once he glared forward, harshly, cold and unsympathetic. Now he smiles at them, with a kindness I can’t offer those people. He’s forgiven their hisses, the mass of them.

  I cannot. I will not. I want to fight back. I want to scream at them. I want to scream at myself for being so weak. What’s happening to me?

  I gasp and touch my cheeks, noticing they’re wet with tears. Shit. Focus Avery. Control your goddamn thoughts. Why is this so hard? I return to my happy place, meditating. Remembering what it was like a few short months ago.

  Eyes shut tight, I grip the edge of the chair and push back into the pillow further. Deep breaths slow my frantic mind, the worry that claws at my throat. I see it. The waves. They’re deep blue, sliding in and out, against the silvery sand. The inky sky to the west is shrinking back as the eastern sky blooms with shades of violet and indigo.

  This is my spot. This place beyond the dune, where the water meets the shore, at the end of the world. If the Earth was flat, this is where it begins. This is where the sun creeps over the horizon spilling pots of gold and amber light. The sweet scent of the night air lifts as the waves slink up closer to me, nearing my toes at the edge of the water. The tide is shifting. Soon there will be a sandbar out there covered with life.

  The muscles in my arms relax as my breathing slows. In my mind, I’m there. Safe from the thing that frightens me the most.

  Me.

  CHAPTER 2

  A firm, warm hand rests on my shoulder. The touch is firm but soft. Reassuring and possessive. The daydream shatters as I glance up into those vivid sapphire eyes. “Are you hungry?” Sean asks. “I made you something.”

  I nod and start to push myself up, but Sean reaches out to me, offering me his hand. “Let me help.”

  I mutter, “I wish you could.” Before I know it, I’m standing in his arms, round belly pressed to his flat, toned stomach. I can feel the curve of his muscles, the strength of him through his soft T-shirt. Black. With dark jeans that are slashed and frayed at the knee.

  His lips are by my ear, “Tell me. I want to be here for you, Avery, but you’ve grown so quiet since we got home. It’s like someone flipped a switch and turned you off.” Still holding me by my upper arms, he pulls away, his eyes roving my face looking for answers. A soft smile lines his lips as he reaches for a stray curl and pushes it behind my ear.

  The knot in my throat is massive. I can’t breathe. What a
m I supposed to say? That I managed to tackle the task I set out for when I met him? He’ll blame himself. I can’t say that. Shrugging, I sigh. Tipping my head to the side, I lie, “I’m just tired.”

  “When did you see Chan?”

  My gaze evades his, eyes dodging everywhere. He gently tugs my chin back toward him. Waiting for an answer that I’m slow to give. “I don’t know. Last week, I guess. Everything’s blurring together, Sean.”

  My rigidness is cracking, splintering apart under his gaze. I can’t hold myself together much longer. I try to twist out of his grip, saying, “Let’s eat on the couch, okay?” But he doesn’t release me.

  “Avery,” he speaks my name like a command. “You will never be the person you were before all this happened. That girl is gone. You know that, but I can’t help but feel that Chan has somehow convinced you that you can regain that piece of you if you follow her rules. You can’t. God knows I’ve tried.”

  Tears spring up in my eyes. Our gazes are locked. “I feel so broken. Everywhere I look is another reminder of the life I lost. Some days I can barely breathe. If it weren’t for them…” My hand rests on the swell of my stomach, on the twins growing inside me. My lips remain parted but there are no more words. I don’t know how to say it. To tell him what I feel.

  The corners of his mouth twitch. There’s a moment where he says nothing and then cups both my cheeks, his voice drops an octave with the seriousness of what he’s saying. “I know. I see it in you. There’s a place for numbness, Avery. A time to use it. And a time to put it away.”

  “The darkness that was in you, it’s gone, Sean. I’m afraid if I go that way, I won’t come back.” My lower lip is trembling. A bitter laugh is forced from my lungs and sounds like a bark. “Imagine a mother who feels nothing for her baby. Do you want that to be me? If I don’t keep fighting, it will be.”

  Coldness drips down my spine before the words break apart like shards of ice. My throat tightens as I realize how much that thought scares me. My chest rises and falls swiftly as my heart beats out of control like I’m running from Vic through the marshes.

  “Avery,” his voice is deep, calm. Sean’s fingers push back into my hair as he breathes in slowly, surely. He does it again and I copy him, sucking in air as slowly as I can. Trying to calm down.

  His dark lashes are lowered, considering his words. When he meets my gaze, he says softly, “This is your path and the pain you feel is because that path is diverging and you’ve not chosen which way to go. I want you to do whatever you need to do to feel whole again. If that means walking in the shadows, do it. If that means fighting them off, then fight. I just think there’s a part of you that’s screaming to be heard and it won’t be silenced. Until you confront the crux of the matter, you’ll never be able to rest. Your life will be a fight where you’re railing against it.”

  I pull away and wrap my arms around my middle, or try to. The bump is a large curve now, so I tuck my arms up under my chest. Head hung low, ice licks its way up my spine. Reforming. Always beckoning. I repress a shudder. Speaking through a wall of curly brown hair, I breathe, “You’ll lose me if I stop fighting.”

  His voice is close. I feel his breath on my neck when he speaks. “I’ll never lose you. This is part of you. The part that you’re denying. A part that I’ve already seen. Avery, I know what you’ve done. You’re not weak.”

  I shake my head, “I am.”

  “No, you’re not,” he grabs my shoulders and whirls me toward him. His voice is earnest and his words rapid. “You’re trying to deny half of your being. You’re not all rainbows and glitter anymore. You’ve killed people. Nothing removes that stain. It clings and darkens.”

  “And that’s horrible.”

  “Maybe, but it’s also inert. The dark part of you has no power over you. It’s like trying to repress laughter because being happy is wrong. It’s part of you now. The good and the bad. Let yourself become whoever it is you’re meant to be. I won’t leave you and I’ll never stop loving you.”

  The quivering in my lower lip returns ten-fold. He hit the mark. The sore spot. He said what worries me most. I blink away the layer of tears that haven’t fallen from my eyes and hold his gaze. My voice is barely a breath, “You won’t?”

  “Never.” The word rings with absolute conviction. Sean tips his head to the side, keeping his eyes locked on mine. His sincerity is not pity. It’s not gentle either. He’s not lied to me and padded what’s happening here. If anything, he holds up a metaphorical mirror to make me face it.

  “There are times in life,” he explains, “that you have to walk through, in utter darkness. You can’t force it to stop. You can’t take a bypass around it. That’s just the way it is. Be who you are now. I think you’ll feel better once you—” he stops suddenly. Those sapphire eyes still locked on mine.

  “Once I, what? Say it, Sean.” My brows are pinched together. This conversation is two parts anxiety and one part brutal honestly. It’s hard to swallow.

  His lips part as he traces a finger along my cheek. He works his jaw as if he’s considering pulling back, not saying whatever he planned, but then I feel the change in him. That he thinks it’s better said than left in silence.

  “Avery,” he takes my hands and dips his head as he speaks. Dark hair falls into his eyes. “Once you stop trying to be someone that no longer exists.”

  That does it. The tears flow. The ugly sobs start. Before Sean can get his arms around me, I collapse back into the chair, head in hands, hiding my face. He said everything I needed to hear. He gave me the permission I needed to walk on to whatever’s next. To feel however I want to feel. To stop looking backward. His strong arms wrap around me as he huddles my body close to his.

  “Avery, I love you. Forever. Always. No matter what happens. You’re mine.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Days roll by, one after the next. They no longer bleed together at the edges. I do what I want. I no longer want to wear the bright happy maternity clothing, so Sean takes me to a specialty boutique nestled into an alley on the other side of the city. I glance around nervously when the car drops us off and pull my pink polka dot sweater tighter around my body.

  Sean sees my unease and laughs. “I know the owner. I promise we’re in the right place.”

  I nod and take his hand as we walk up to a matte black door with a curve at the top. It looks like it once belonged on a church. There’s not a bit of luster on it, just thick planks of black wood with the ancient grain exposed. Iron nail heads form a line across the planks. Gothic details are the only decoration. A spindly dragon is perched on an old-fashioned peephole that swings open like a door for a mouse. The dragon’s body twists around the tiny opening, his form carved with exquisite detail.

  It’s not until Sean pulls it open that I realize the thickness and heft of the door. He holds it for me, gesturing for me to enter. I duck under his arm and stop directly on the other side of the doorway. “Uh, Sean?”

  His deep chuckle is in my ear as he stands next to me and takes my hand. His eyes shift to the black walls filled with leather straps and harnesses. A red corset is on a black French form under a spotlight by the wall. It’s made of straps of blood-red leather, crisscrossing the form, leaving certain things exposed, and it’s covered in silver rings. The display has a chain attached to the ring between the breasts of the form that ties off on the wall.

  I grip Sean’s hand harder. “What are we doing here? I can’t do this stuff now.”

  A devilish smile flashes across his face before he scoffs. “Of course, you can. Unless you’re spotting again?” He watches me carefully. I shake my head. Nerves fill my belly and I clutch his hand harder. That deep laugh returns. He stops and tips his head at me, grinning. “Do you really think I’d bring my pregnant wife to an S&M club?”

  “Uh, you did.” I lift my palm in the air to show off the weird stuff on the other wall and the half-naked couples doing things on that side of the room. I didn’t see them until that moment
. There was a half wall and too many pillows obstructing our view. My face burns with a fierce blush.

  “The owner can make you anything you want,” Sean states simply. “Dresses, pants, jackets—whatever.”

  “How do you know her?” Curiosity gets the better of me.

  Sean lifts a dark brow. “Black had a place like this, years ago, before she switched to the operation you stumbled into. The seamstress that worked there owns this place. It’s a shop, not an Orgy Fest. I don’t know what’s up with them.” He tips his head at the couples in the corner.

  “Wait, Black had a club? You went to it?” My questions go unanswered as he pulls me deeper into the dimly lit room. “Sean—?”

  “I’ll fill you in later.” Sean walks in long strides up to the desk and rings the bell.

  The hum of a machine stops and the place is filled with silence. A moment later, a woman dressed in black with a floor-length black duster emerges from behind a jacquard curtain dividing the front of the shop from her back room. Her lips twist into something of a smile. “Sean Ferro.”

  “Bella Noir.” Sean reaches out and shakes her hand as she leans in and kisses his cheek.

  I suppress a giggle. There’s no way that’s her real name. There are people walking around who have been bestowed names odd and old, but she’s not one of them. I can tell. It’s part of this place, she’s presenting a character. The woman is slender, taller than me with inky hair and cherry stained lips that have perfectly outline bows. The paleness of her skin has caused her to age well, but there are laugh lines on her long face and slight creases by her brown eyes. I suspect she’s in her mid-forties.