“Oh.” My head was swimming. “Okay.”
“In addition to the property and contents thereof, your uncle left you one specific bequest of personal property. Though it is located in the condo and not part of the trust, he was very clear that he wanted there to be no dispute as to his wish that this item go to you.” He rattled the papers again, then cleared his throat. “Also to my beloved Lina, I leave my facsimile copy of Leonardo da Vinci’s Creature Notebook, as I have come to realize that she will undoubtedly understand and appreciate the true value of this item and my bequest.”
“Lina?” I murmured. Why the hell had he referred to me as Lina?
But no one heard my soft query, as it was buried under Evan’s very loud outburst.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” He was on his feet, more animated than I’d seen him all morning. “He left the Da Vinci notebook to Angie?”
“What the hell is your problem?” I snapped. “He knew I loved that piece. Why shouldn’t he leave it to me?”
Evan ignored me entirely, his full attention focused on Alan, his expression so intense that I half wondered why the attorney didn’t toss down the folder and run for his life.
“When?” Evan growled.
“I—I’m sorry?”
I watched as Evan took three deep breaths, gathering himself with obvious effort. “When did Howard revise his will?”
With a start, I realized that I was five steps behind everyone else. Evan wasn’t upset because I was getting the notebook. He was upset because until Jahn changed the will, he’d been getting the notebook.
Alan glanced at his associates, both of whom started rapidly flipping through documents. “About a month ago,” the guy finally said. “On April third.”
“I see,” Evan said, though from the curious way he eyed me—the first time he’d looked directly at me all day—I could tell that he didn’t see at all.
I, however, thought that I did, and I drew in a sharp breath. That was the day Jahn bailed me out of jail. The day I’d told him the truth about Gracie.
Which begged the question of why my confession had prompted him to leave me such a strange—albeit wonderful—bequest. Was it his way of telling me he trusted me? That no matter what I’d done he didn’t think of me as an irresponsible twit? Or maybe—
“Ms. Raine!”
I jerked my head up, realizing that Alan had been trying to get my attention. “Sorry,” I said. “I was just thinking.”
Alan nodded and continued, but Evan’s eyes stayed on me, his brow furrowed as he openly studied me. I wished that I had the balls to boldly return his stare, but I didn’t. Instead, I dipped my head and doodled on the pad of paper that the firm had thoughtfully placed at every seat in the conference room.
The rest of the meeting was about signing documents and transferring titles, and I moved through it like a zombie. Or, more accurately, like a celebrity, signing my name blindly where I was told to sign and then turning to the next piece of paper that someone shoved in front of me.
Finally, we were done and allowed to leave. I hurried ahead, wanting to catch the elevator by myself, and not wanting to walk next to Evan in the circle of conspicuous silence.
It didn’t work. He was at my side by the time the elevator car arrived, and when I got on, so did he. The silence was thick and uncomfortable, but I thought I’d be able to tough it out. I mean, how long could a ride down to the lobby take, anyway? Besides, he was standing all the way on the other side of the car, his hands on the bar, his head slightly down. He looked like a man deep in thought, and I assumed he’d stay that way until the doors opened and I could bolt.
I assumed wrong.