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“I have an important matter to discuss with you. Is there somewhere private we can talk?”
Here we are. The moment I’ve dreaded since the day Calvin walked into my life, offering to eliminate all my problems. The same day my luck went to shit. “Look, if this is about my grandmother’s fees, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know anything about any fees.”
Shrugging, I fold my arms over my chest, well into defensive territory. “Then, what …? What are you looking to discuss?”
“Again, if we could talk privately, that would be best.”
“Privately about what?”
“Your inheritance.”
A cough sputters past my lips, and for a second I can’t catch my breath. I hold up a finger, watching the man’s face pinch to concern. “I’m sorry. I choked …” I swallow again. “On my spit.” Another cough sends spittle onto the floor and across the man’s shiny, patent, black leather shoes. “I’m sorry. My what? Did you sayinheritance? What inheritance?”
He glances around the diner. “Perhaps there’s an office, or somewhere we can talk?”
“Sure. Yeah. Sure.” I lead him to one of the back offices, my body cold with shock, as I mechanically pull a chair out from the break room table, across from him. “What inheritance? Last I checked Mamie had nothing but debt.”
“Your grandmother was executor to her uncle Renaud Mercier’s estate and trust. He passed away of natural causes at the ripe age of ninety-two, about four months ago. With your grandmother’s passing, that makes you the only living heir to his fortune.”
“Fortune?” I clear my throat and shift in the chair, pinching my skin beneath the table. Did I doze off during my shift? “What about my father?”
He rolls his shoulders back and entwines his fingers. “Were you not aware that he died of a drug overdose two years ago?”
Lips pressed to a hard line, I shake my head. “I haven’t seen my father since I was a small child.”
“I’m sorry.”
With a dismissive shrug, I wave my hand. “Anyway, continue.”
“Your great-uncle was a magnate in France. A highly respected businessman. He established his estate and trust through our sister firm in Paris.”
Mamie never spoke of him, aside from a few anecdotes about how her uncle never came around much, and when he did, he often argued with her father. Never sounded to me like the charitable type.
“When you say fortune. What exactly … I mean, how much is that exactly?”
His brows and shoulders wing up, as though I’ve asked him to calculate some unsolvable math equation. “Between his business and personal assets, the estate and trust is valued at approximately five hundred million.”
Another cough sends me forward, and I beat on my chest to loosen the saliva I’m drowning in right now. “Um. I’m sorry. I, um … it sounded like you said five hundred million.” An involuntary snort escapes me, and I clap a hand over my mouth. “Like … dollars?”
“Euros. It’d be a bit more than that in US dollars.”
“And I’m the sole heir to this fortune? There isn’t, like … a cousin, or something, to split this with?”
Frowning again, he tips his head. “Not that we’ve determined, no. Your grandmother did have an older brother, who passed away, but no children, it seems.”
While he reaches into his briefcase, and pulls out a folder, I’m digging my nails into my skin, desperate to figure out if I’m dreaming, or awake, right now. I scan the walls of the room, taking in details like the brown water stain on the ceiling, the crack in the drywall that’s been painted over blue, and the unsavory scent of burnt coffee on the air. Surely, I wouldn’t pick up on that level of detail in a dream.
Meanwhile, Thomas prattles on about the process of disbursement through foreign trusts, and I’m only listening to about half of it. All I want to do is buy a few gallons of chocolate syrup and take a sundae bath with Damon. A thought that makes me chuckle smack in the middle of Thomas’s explanation.
He looks up, brows furrowed in concern, and it’s then that my tears magnify his face.
“I’m sorry, this is …. This is just a little overwhelming. Like … I feel like I’m going to pass out?”
“I understand.” He sets his hands out, like one would if they were trying to gauge whether, or not, the nutty chick across from him is about to lose her shit, or throw up. “Perhaps you’d like to meet at another time?”
“No! God, no. I’m just … shocked. Fucking happy as all get out. More shocked.”
