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“She wanted to make sure I told you about it in person and she insisted that you bring Monique.”
“I already said we’d be there in the family group chat,” I remind him.
He rolls his eyes. “You know she doesn’t keep up with that chat. She’ll post a question and then won’t check for weeks.”
I chuckle, knowing it’s true. Aunt Kayla’s notorious for doing that.
“We’ll be there, except we'll probably be late since we’re going away this weekend.”
This is the weekend that Monique is going to scout one of the last artists for her gallery at an art fair a few hours outside of Williamsport.
“I remember,” he says. It doesn’t surprise me. Uncle Josh has a mind like a steel trap. No wonder he’s been able to run Townsend Real Estate for so long. “Enjoy your weekend away.”
He looks me in the eye as he squeezes my shoulder.
“Great work.” He holds up a hand. “Don’t give me any shit about it being a group project. I know who works for me. And I know who stayed late nights and demanded more from their team when they weren’t satisfied with the bare minimum.”
He gives me a nod before sauntering off.
I watch him over my shoulder before striding to the door.
I have one more piece of business to take care of for the day before going home to see the love of my life.
* * *
“Diego,you made the right decision in coming,” Gabriel Jr. says with a wide grin on his face as I enter the backroom of this accounting office.
I glance around and scowl at the big bastard standing in the corner. He’s the same son of a bitch who was with Gabriel before. I have something for his ass, too.
Gabriel must’ve wizened up after our last meeting, though, because he’s brought more reinforcements. There are two other security-guard looking jackasses in the room. One of them are seated directly next to Gabriel at the small, wooden table at the center of the room.
The other stands in the opposite corner behind me.
I glance back, meeting his eyes and scowling his way, too.
“It’s a little crowded in here, isn’t it?” I ask. “Your office isn’t big enough for this many people,” I mock as I glance around at our underwhelming surroundings.
Gabriel’s office barely fits two people and the table where he’s seated. The ceiling stained with old water marks and the flickering overhead lights tells how bad business is going.
“No wonder you’re so hard up for the money.”
He grunts and pounds on the table with his fist, but quickly calms himself when I glare down at him.
“The fact thatmyfather left you even a dime of his money is bullshit. All you have to do to turn it over to me and Rodrigo—his real heirs—is sign on the dotted line.”
He slides a folder with the documents inside.
From my standing position, I glance at the folder before my eyes go back to him.
“I thought your father’s will was rock solid,” I say. “How is this … whatever the fuck it is, supposed to override his will?”
I don’t actually give a shit about the answer.
“What’s the hesitation about?” he asks. “I thought you didn’t want the money.”
“I still don’t,” I reply. “What the hell is in those documents that overrides a dead man’s will?”
Gabriel clicks his teeth, and I flex my hands to keep from ramming my fists down his throat. It’s too early for that.
