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“No!” I cried, near the breaking point. “I stayed for Granda’s sake. I’m not staying for yours.”
“You can always walk,” he said. “We’re reading the will in less than an hour now. Maybe Granda left you enough to buy you a new car.”
“Marcus already did.”
“He did what?”
“He bought me a new Alfa.”
“Then drive that to the airport,” he snapped.
I could hardly confess that I couldn’t drive stick, not with my history with the Alfa. “I hate you,” I said.
“So you’ve told me. I’m not too fond of you either. It’s a shame we’re so good in bed together. Be in the library by one or I’ll come to get you, and I don’t think you’d like that.”
“I don’t like bullies.”
“I don’t like liars,” he shot back, and left me.
I showed up in the library at the dot of one, only to find the entire family and staff had gathered. Mr. Fergell sat at Granda’s huge desk, papers in front of him as he fiddled with his glasses. There was only one seat left, directly in the front, next to Ian, and for a moment, I considered whether I could just lurk in the back of the room. I would have tried it, except all eyes turned to me, and Mr. Fergell looked up.
“Come in, young lady. There’s a seat for you up front.”
What Would Bella Do? I tossed my hair over my shoulder and sauntered into the room, taking my seat next to Ian. Come hell or high water, I was leaving this afternoon. Somehow, I would wrangle that overpowered death trap into sedate behavior and abandon it at the airport. It was up to Bella to deal with it.
Plastering a suitably demure expression on my face, I sat there, acutely aware of Ian so close beside me that I could feel his body heat, as Mr. Fergell droned on in Spanish and English, through all the formalities. My Spanish was good, but not up to antiquated legalese, and I was so busy ignoring Ian and everyone else that I paid little attention to what was read. The amount Bella inherited had nothing to do with me, though I suppose I should plan to act gratified or outraged, depending on the bequest, but at the moment, I really didn’t care. Granda was fair, and besides, it was his money. He could do with it what he wanted. As long as he left Ian enough money to run Mariposa, then he could lavish the rest of the money on whomever he chose—maybe a home for aging dogs. No, scratch that—Granda had hated dogs.
More droning by Mr. Fergell, and I allowed myself a brief glance down. I could see Ian’s hand on the arm of the chair, and a sudden heat filled me. He had beautiful hands—long, deft fingers that...
The sound of my own name brought me out of my distraction and I jerked my head up in surprise. My name, not Bella’s. Katherine Mirabel Whitehead.
The sudden silence in the room was deafening, and I wondered what in God’s name had been said. It didn’t take long to find out.
The room erupted into screeches, shouts of protest, with Marcus charging up to the lawyer and practically yanking him out of his seat. Fergell stood up, trying not to cower in the face of Marcus’s raging bulk, and Mary Alice was next to him, an unintelligible string of protests shooting from her mouth. Beside me, Ian hadn’t moved.
Pandemonium reigned for the next few moments, and then Ian rose. “Enough,” he thundered, and everyone froze.
“But Ian...” Marcus began with just the trace of a whine.
“I won’t stand for this!” Mary Alice said, her voice strident. “He’s not cutting us out of our inheritance—we’re more family than you are, Ian, and I’m not about to sit back and?—”
“Be quiet!” he snapped, doing the impossible and silencing Mary Alice. “Everyone just calm down.”
“You, of course, have the right to contest the will,” Mr. Fergell said calmly. “But Doctor Madhur was one of the witnesses, and he assured me your grandfather was of sound mind when he made this extraordinary decision.”
What extraordinary decision? I’d been so busy mooning over Ian’s hands that I hadn’t been paying attention. And what did it have to do with me?
“Bella, don’t just sit there!” Marcus said. “Say something!”
“She’s in shock, and no wonder,” Mary Alice said shortly.
“Yes, Bella.” Was it my imagination or did Ian’s voice caress the name with cynical emphasis? “What do you think of the terms of Granda’s will? If affects you more than anyone.”
“That’s bullshit!” Marcus thundered. “We’re all left high and dry by the whim of a senile old man.”
“He wasn’t senile,” Ian corrected him, but I could feel his eyes on me. “And Bella needs money more than the rest of you—she goes through it like water. What do you think?”
“What do I think?” I echoed, stalling for time.
