JORDAN
“Hey buddy, what’s going on? You sounded so livid over the phone.” I walk over to Peter, pacing restlessly by my poolside with a half-empty glass in his hand.
He looks frazzled, his usually neat hair dishevelled, his tie loosened, and the top buttons of his shirt undone. I’ve seen him stressed before, but this? This feels different.
When I first saw Peter’s call, I ignored it because I thought he wanted to invite me over to his house, not until my housekeeper called me to inform me that Peter was in my house.
When he called me again, I picked up, and he sounded so angry like he was about to kill. I had to reschedule my meeting and rush home as soon as I could.
I’ve been avoiding Peter’s call and his house like a plague, trying not to run into Astrid. I know she must really ha
