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That is starting to seem like me.
Lovely.
Mr. Baker edges behind me, putting space between him and Trent. “We set the account up to pay for her lifestyle until she turns twenty-two, then she can control it.”
“And how old is she?”
I wave. “I’m here, you know. You can ask me yourself.”
He looks me over like I’m the dirt beneath his shoe.
“As I was saying, how old?”
“Twenty-one,” Mr. Baker says, still hiding behind me.
Coward.
The beginnings of a smirk form on Trent’s lips. He has the glistening, devious eyes of a viper and the behavior to match them. “Interesting . . .”
I still.
“That’s why I called this meeting,” Mr. Baker says, and I know things are about to get very bad for me.
“Who is in charge of the estate until that day?” Trent asks.
“You are.”
Trent’s eyes meet mine, and if I thought the last look he gave me was terrible, this one is like the devil rose from hell and took form in his body. A sinister smile slices across his face. It downright frightens me.
“So . . .” He stalks toward me, slow and measured. “I am in charge of the money.”
“Until she is twenty-two,” Mr. Baker clarifies, taking refuge behind Erin this time as Trent closes in on me.
“For the next year,” Trent follows up, another step closer.
“That is correct.”
The smile widens over Trent’s face. It makes him look a bit maniacal, and I don’t know what it means. I just know that I have three massive problems on my hands: a twenty-two-million-dollar fortune I have no access to, Erin’s wrath, and the full force of this stranger’s hatred.
“Is this all?” Trent asks the lawyer.
“In a nutshell.”
“Very well.”
The room falls eerily quiet.
If a pin dropped, you could hear it.
I can hear my sister breathing. Hell, I can hear my own heart beating. That’s how silent it is as we wait for Trent to do something.
By the look he just gave me, it will be deadly, that’s for sure.
Trent shifts.
We suck in a collective breath.
He steps in the direction of the door.
