Phoebe's POV
After hauling the presents inside, Harold strolled into our living room like he owned the place, plopped down right next to me, and locked eyes with Dale, whose face screamed pure irritation.
"So you're Harold?" Dale's eyebrow twitched dangerously.
I could practically hear his thoughts: The current Bailey family head is supposedly arrogant and unbearable, and damn if the gossip isn't spot-on. Is this punk deliberately trying to piss me off?
Harold's expression turned earnest. "Mr. Lorenzo, just call me Harold."
While Dale was clearly trying to keep things formal, Harold bulldozed straight toward intimacy.
Everyone knew only Harold's inner circle got to use his first name.
That privilege was strictly for family and close friends.
Dale looked like he'd swallowed something sour.
He cut straight to the chase. "Julian mentioned you're planning to propose to Phoebe?"
