The limo brought them over a bridge and onto an island where the streets were lined with palm trees. Belle gazed out the window, unsure where she was. A sign read that all the property was private except the road. She swallowed. Her neighborhood in DC was exclusive, but nothing like this. They drove past the back of a mansion on the road and then a few houses and then another mansion.

To avoid the scenery, she turned toward Peter and asked, "How come the mansions are all facing away from the road?"

"The houses are built to enjoy our views of Biscayne Bay and downtown Miami."

This was larger than his brother's place where he had held the party, and far more opulent. The limo stopped on the street near the back of the house. She crossed her arms as she scooted out. The mansion was multiple floors, and she could see a chandelier inside through the window.

She shook her head. "If you live here, why didn't you host the rehearsal dinner?"

He shrugged. "My sister was marrying Colt. She wanted the wedding closer to Homestead and in a place that wouldn't overwhelm half her guests."

This had been a mistake. She should have gone to the hotel, not agreed to hear him out.

As he held the door for her, and she stepped into the white marble entrance way, she gulped. The other day, she'd have left the moment she stepped inside. Now she folded her hands together and gazed at that gorgeous golden chandelier that took center stage in the room.

"I understand."

"It's just a house, but it was built in a time when families intended to show off their homes." The Great Gatsby had nothing on Peter Morgan's home.

"Did you buy this yourself?"

"No, this was my family home. I inherited."

"Of course it was."

The carvings on the walls were hand painted. She swallowed as she stared at the portraits on the wall and the ceramics. This was not a place for children. He didn't seem to notice that her mouth was open.

"You'll like the view. Perhaps we can have dinner on the patio after I show you the grounds?"

“Sounds nice.” She tried to blink. This was too much. "We came here because you said you wanted to talk."

He threw open the double doors of the front and let the sunshine inside. She covered her eyes and stepped forward to take his offered hand as he said, "I definitely want that, but I'm hoping we can include dinner still."

"I suppose, but your house intimidates."

He tisked as if he didn't see the connection. "It's only twelve bedrooms. Dad always complained that us children made too much noise and disturbed his guests in the other wing."

Her apartment had two bedrooms, and that was enough. He then pointed toward the Miami skyline that shone over the water. She stepped closer to him and smelled his woodsy scent. She almost lost track of the conversation, but massaged her neck.

"He didn't bring you to meet every one of his guests and explain why he needed them entertained in his house?"

"Of course he did. I was always delegated to be his right hand. Most of the people invited to stay with us soon lost everything as Dad targeted their financial interests. He claimed the house visits were the guests' way of making up for some slight, but no one ever smoothed things over with Mitch Morgan."

"So I am not the only one intimidated here."

He opened another door and held it for her. She pressed her lips and followed. She stepped into the room.

"And you?" she asked. "If crossed, can you be smoothed over?"

"In business, not likely."

"And in your private life?"

"I don't have one. Now that my brother and sister are back, they expect me to be part of a family. It's strange for me."

They were in a living room of sorts. Her feet ached in her new heels, but she didn't say anything. She took his hand and brought her to the couch. He followed her direction and sat. She joined him.

"Growing a heart is a good thing. Can I ask a question?"

His hand landed on her knee. "Sure, what?"

This was it. She swallowed. "What did you mean it when you called me your girlfriend?"

He didn't move. "What?"

"You called me your girlfriend." She turned her body to face him more. This conversation was important. "We have only had two, well if you count today, three dates. Are we dating?"

His eyebrows lifted. "Aren't we?"

The bet rang in her ears as important. The thought caused her body to stiffen. She'd get to that in a minute.

"Peter, our lives are very different. We probably won't mesh well together."

His hand stayed on her knee and squeezed it. For a moment, she thought he read her mind. "What bothers you?"

She glanced at his leg. Last night he'd made her forget the entire universe. She crossed her arms.

"Colt didn't want to marry me because I didn't want to leave my job for a farm."

"Alice and Colt run a corporation worth three quarters of a billion dollars. He'd need to be close."

His deep voice caught her attention, and she gazed at him. Her throat seemed to close on its own. She coughed out the choke his news seemed to cause.

"What? The farms weren't worth half that much a year ago."

He shrugged. "They now have access to better contracts and contacts."

He didn't have to lay claim to helping Colt. She saw stars floating. "You did that because of Colt and your sister?"

He shook his head. "Alice married John, first. Alice and Colt are partners, and no one in my family will ever go poor."

Close to a billion dollars was hardly poor. The multimillion dollar farms Colt used to run had tripled in value in less than a year. Her entire body heated, and she glanced out the window at the blue bay.

"You almost make dumping me sound like a good financial investment."

His hand pressed against her knee. She swallowed.

"Belle..."

A loud high pitched voice of a woman echoed in the air and interrupted them. "Mitch! Where are my children?"

Peter's face went white.

Peter and she both jumped to their feet. Peter's eyes circled, and he inhaled without exhaling. Then he said, "Excuse me," and rushed out the door.

Whoever was here clearly intended to argue with Peter's father. Belle stayed right on his heels and followed him down a hall toward the room they entered.

An older woman with Peter's high cheekbones covered her lips. Her eyes misted as she stared at him. "Oh my God. Peter."

Peter crossed his arms and stared at the older woman. His face was white, and his hands were clenched. "What the—"

Now wasn't the time to overreact. She reached up to his shoulder and massaged his arm to get him to relax.

He unclenched his hands as she asked, "What's going on? Who is she?"

His fingers touched the bottom of his lips. "Belle, that's my mother."

The one that left him scarred and unable to trust anyone. Belle licked her lips and tried to sound calming and soft.

"Your what?"

"I'm his mother, Isabella Morgan." His mother came closer and seemed like she wanted to hug him. He stepped away. Tears fell down the woman's face. "Peter, thank goodness you're okay. You've grown so handsome. Where are your brother and sister?"

His hands clenched again. "Safe from you. How did you get in here?"

She pointed toward the door. "My kidnappers delivered me. They said Mr. Morgan expected my delivery. I thought it was your father."

"My father is dead."

A smile grew on her face that she quickly masked. "Then it was you who freed me."

Belle asked as she shook her head, "What?"

Peter didn't move. His shoulders were tight. Belle glanced out the window and saw the SUVs. "Those are Morgan Enterprise cars."

His mother wiped her eyes. "Yes, your father refused to let me get divorced. He had me transported to a compound in Argentina, where my only contact with other humans was my children and his staff. I was so worried about you."

"You left me. You certainly didn't contact us."

The words had sounded etched in pain. Belle squeezed his arm to let him know he was fine. If her mother ever walked in the door, she'd have no idea how she'd react.

His mother's face went as white as his. "I didn't. I was kidnapped right from the front door. Your father ensured I was kept under lock and key while all my needs were met, except the most important one of all. You and my other children. Please understand."

"I don't." He then stepped out of her arms and walked toward the window to stare at the SUVs. "If you were the merchandise I had delivered to my house then you were living in a condition most people cannot afford."

His mother shook her head. "Peter, I couldn't ever leave the villa. Your father had me. I would never have left my children. You must know that."

"Why would I know that?" Peter's voice had a desperate edge that he never showed. He knew better than to show his emotions.

Belle had no idea what to say, but this story sounded believable. Peter had told her plenty about Mitch. She swallowed and wanted to know how to help.

Peter's entire body was stiff. "I saw you walk out the door."

His mother's eye widened. "What?"

Peter kept his head high, but his words held fury. "You and Dad fought. Then you stormed out the door and never came back."

His mother took a step toward him. "I went to get air that night. I needed to pack your things to take you with me. I wanted a divorce."

"I don't believe you." He avoided her touch, but returned to Belle's side.

"Your father cheated on me and then refused to let me go. He was a horrible husband and everyday I prayed that you were safe."

Peter's hands clenched. This was fast, but Belle wanted to help him. She reached out and grabbed his arm.

"Peter, she's your mom. You told me yourself that your father went on to ruin everyone who ever stayed in the house with you. If she is your mom, then the worst thing he could do to her was take her children away."

He shook his head as he stared at her. "Don't defend her, Belle. If she's telling the truth, then she can talk to Rafe. He's on the police."

"Rafe Soliz? Pilar’s son? He's a cop?" His mother walked over to him and reached out. Peter flinched, but let her touch his arm. "I'll talk to him. Peter, I have always loved you. Your father wanted to cut me out of your life, so he could mold you into him."

His lips parted as he stared out the window. "That's exactly what he did."

Tears flew down his mother's cheeks again. "Peter, no."

He walked out of their arms and paced the room.

His mother continued, "Your father didn't have a heart, but you used to."

Belle stood beside her and hugged her stomach. She had no idea how to help.

Then his mother finished, "Your girlfriend seems lovely. Tell me your name and if Peter truly cares about you."

This was the second time today she had been called his girlfriend. She shook her head. "We just met, Mrs. Morgan. I'm Belle Jordan. Peter was showing me his house."

“You seem nice, Belle.” His mother smiled, but then stopped herself. She stared at Peter as she said, "Please call me Isabella. Peter, where is your father?"

"I told you." Peter froze and stared at her from across the room. "He's dead. We buried him months ago."

His mother wiped her eyes and lifted her chin. "He deserved to die in misery. So what took you so long to bring me home?"

Peter stared at Belle and then Isabella, his mom. "I thought you left us. I didn't know anything else. When I was given an expense report, I wanted to know what merchandise Dad had hidden away."

His mother stepped closer to him again. Belle wondered if she had a death wish in that moment until she said, "Peter, where are John and Victoria?"

Peter closed his eyes and massaged his chin. "Vicki's packing for her honeymoon, and John lives with his wife and child."

His mother's eyes widened. "They are married?"

"With children, both of them." He turned toward a maid that stood in the next room. "Caro, have my mother's things brought into the east wing. It seems I have a guest."

"Yes, Mr. Morgan."

Did he always assume his staff was on call without having to raise his voice? The very pretty maid helped Isabella Morgan leave the room.

Belle pressed her lips together.

His mother turned from the door and walked in front of him again. "Can you call them? I want to see all my children again."

"Please follow, Caro, Mom. I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around everything."

"Caro, are you a Soliz as well?"

"Yes, ma'am. My mother worked here before me." His mother turned to go but then stared at Peter again.

She steadied her shoulders. She marched toward Peter, threw her arms around him and hugged him. He didn't hug her, but he stayed still to let her brush his hair with her fingers.

Peter didn't move. He seemed stuck in that one spot. Belle came toward him again and took his hand and unwrapped his fingers. When she placed her hand in his, Peter rocked on his feet and then squeezed her hand.

Isabella Morgan swallowed.

"Belle, I don't know what to do."

"You're doing great."

She stared into his brown eyes. He seemed like a young boy who had just lost his mother. Her own heart melted a little, and she'd help him.

"Peter, relax. I'll text Colt. You call your brother."

Isabella followed the maid. Peter stared down the hall as his mother walked away.

"My mind is in a complete fog. I never thought my father would..."

"Do you think he was capable?"

"Yes."

His eyes were haunted. Unshed tears gathered in her throat.

"There are no words. I'm sorry."

Neither of them moved. Clouds formed in the distance on the water.

She found her cell phone and intended to text Colt, but then she saw how Peter turned away. She answered, "John and Victoria will want to meet their mother. You'll have to tell them. Maybe I should go to my hotel and let you deal with your family."

"No." He ran his hand through his hair and then strode to hold her tight against him. "Belle, I need you to stay."

If she could help him, she'd stay. "Are you sure?"

He then reached around her waist and hugged her. "Absolutely. I'm in shock."

"Okay. I'll get dinner ordered and set."

She ended their hug, but stayed in his arms. Her heart raced because he was so wound up tight. She'd have to stay calm.

"Just tell the staff. We can have whatever you want."

"Peter, be happy. Your mom is back. You thought she left you and never cared."

"I don't know what to think."

"As you said yourself, you're in shock. I need you to relax. Perhaps, you should call John now?"

He took a deep breath. Then he picked up his phone and nodded. "Yeah, I will now."

The moment he held his phone to his ear, she nodded. She found her phone and intended to go find this kitchen of his.

"Okay, I'll be right back. Meet you in the living room we were just in."

He nodded. She strolled through his huge house, but at the first door away from Peter she ignored the grandeur and typed furiously on her phone. Colt, get Victoria over to Peter's mansion ASAP.

He answered back immediately. Why?

Her mother is here and asking for her.

What?

Her mother. Peter just had a delivery from Morgan Enterprises. Turned out Mitch Morgan kidnapped their mom.

We are on our way. Don't let her leave.

I'm on it.

You're the best.

Colt was easy. Coordinating with him felt like they were still friends. Belle turned the corner and saw his mother on the bottom step sitting there with her face between her legs.

Belle sat beside her and heard the tears. "Mrs. Morgan, you're crying."

She placed her hand on the older woman's knee. His mother rocked on the stairwell, as she said, "Belle, it's nothing. Don't mind me."

She was hurt and upset. Anyone in her situation would be. "Be calm, Mrs. Morgan. Peter's calling John right now and Victoria will be here soon. Just give him a little space. He thought you left him."

"My babies, John and Victoria, they must hate me too."

Belle folded her hands together. She had never comforted another before, and her own mother would never walk in the door unexpected. Ghosts were just imaginations of the past.

She swallowed and chose her words carefully. "I don't know about all that. I'm sure they must have missed you. Peter told me how he broke into pieces the day you left."

His mother lifted her head up. "What?"

Belle pressed her hands together. "I shouldn't have said anything. I'll let Peter and you bond. Your other children will be here soon."

His mother's hands shook as she reached out to touch her knee, the same way Peter had earlier today. "Thank you, dear."

Belle stood and wiped her hands on her skirt. "I'm going to ensure that the chef has enough food for when the Morgans all show up."

His mother hugged her waist still, but tried to smile. "You're sweet and down to earth. I'm happy Peter found someone like you."

She pushed a piece of her hair behind her ear. "Why is that?"

"His father would have bought him women, and no one was here to ensure Peter was taught right from wrong."

"Peter doesn't want to be like his father. I understand that more every time I hear what Mitch had done."

"You don't know nearly enough."

"I'm good." From the stories she had already heard about him, she didn't doubt it. She licked her lips and told her heart to stop racing. It didn't work, but she said anyway. "Peter Morgan has a lot of good inside him. Perhaps that comes from you? We came from the hospital where we gave everyone a donation."

Her smile could light up a room. "He still does that? I used to bring him to do that as a boy. It angered his father, but I wanted him to see how others suffered and how lucky he was."

There was so much to straighten out. She shouldn't get involved with the life and loves of the Morgan family. This wasn't her business. A family wasn't something she intended to involve herself with, not after everything, and no mother should like her. She tried to stay reasonable.

"Just relax, Mrs. Morgan, you're home now."

"Again, call me Isabella."

As Belle stood, she nodded and then walked toward the kitchen. She was absolutely sure that she didn't fit in here. She wasn't even sure where this kitchen was. She wandered down the hall and hoped to find it without getting lost.