The waiter appeared, and we ordered—a tall latte for me, espresso for Jake—and then we waited in silence until our beverages were served. I watched him take a sip of his coffee, indifferent to the heat that would have burned my tongue. My people knowledge was pretty basic, but it was good enough to help me draw the conclusion that Jake Clarkson was a tough guy, and not just when it came to sipping hot beverages.
“My firm has been trying to get in touch with you for two weeks, Brooke.” The thin skin beneath his eyes crinkled, but I didn’t quite feel his amusement.
“I was away on business. Europe.”
“Ah.” He nodded sympathetically, as though he knew exactly what I was talking about.
“I gather you had a nice trip?”
“I did, thank you.” My cheeks flamed up at the sudden memory of lazy days in Jett’s arms. You said you flew over from London?”
He nodded. “Yesterday morning. Your roommate told me when you’d be back, and I decided it might be the best way to share the news.” His gray-blue gaze flickered to life as he pulled out a sheet of paper. My curiosity killing me already, I peered over the rim of my cup.
“Did I win the lottery? Because if I did, I can tell you it must be a mistake. I don’t do lotteries.” I laughed to mask the nervousness in my voice.
“No, Brooke.” He pushed the sheet of paper toward me so I could read it. “It’s a testament.”
“A what?” I frowned, grabbing the paper. My eyes almost jumped out of their sockets as I read the title, and all of a sudden, my vision blurred and I almost fainted. It couldn’t be. But there in front of me, it said: The last will and testament of Alessandro Lucazzone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT
OF
ALESSANDRO LUCAZZONE
I, Alessandro Lucazzone, of Bellagio, being of sound and disposing mind, do hereby make, publish and declare the following to be my last Will and Testament, revoking all previous wills and codicils made by me. This Will may at any time be revoked by me at my sole discretion.
ARTICLE 1
IDENTIFICATION OF FAMILY
I declare that I was married to Maria Agrusa, to which I have referred herein as my ‘spouse’. We had no children, living or deceased.
All of the properties of my estate (the “residue”), after payment of any taxes or other expenses of my estate as provided below, including the property subject to a power of appointment hereby shall be distributed to BROOKE MARY STEWART.
I sucked in a sharp breath at seeing my name. My mind was spinning. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I was in shock because I couldn’t think clearly. My brain was numb.
“Do you understand what this is, Brooke?” Jake asked, forcing me to look up.
“Yes, it’s Mr. Lucazzone’s last will. But…why are you showing it to me? I don’t know him personally.” My voice sounded choked as I fought to grasp the meaning of what looked like the photocopy of an original will written in legal English. In theory, I had read about the old man’s life in Jett’s files. But the whole situation was too huge to grasp. I was supposed to handle the case, not meet with a lawyer and talk about the next of kin. If there was proof of alien life on another planet, I would have been a lot less surprised.
I shook my head. A will, my name, and Alessandro’s—three things, and all on one paper? That was impossible. Insane.
“This must come as a bit of a shock but,” Jake tapped the end of his pen on the paper, right where Alessandro had signed his name, “you are the heir.”
“It can’t be.” I shook my head in denial. “It must be a mistake.”
The will declared Maria Lucazzone’s relatives as the beneficiary, even though according to Jett’s file there was none.
“Initially Mr. Lucazzone decided to pass the estate on to various charities,” Jake said. “However, a few weeks ago it came to his attention that his deceased spouse had relatives in the United States. It took us a while to ascertain your father’s identity, but since he’s no longer with us and he has no siblings, you’re the next of kin. In a gesture of goodwill, Mr. Lucazzone changed the testament in your favor upon one condition.” He paused for effect and smiled. I stared at him, open-mouthed, still not getting his drift. “My client is a very ill man, who could pass away any minute. He wants to meet his heir before he dies.”
I knew the answer, but I still had to ask. “How can I possibly help you?”
He pushed an envelope across the table, toward me. “Brooke, we’ve wasted enough time searching for your father, and when we discovered he had passed away, it took us a while to get hold of you. We’d like you to come with us straight away, so you can meet with your great-great-uncle and sign the necessary paperwork. I took the liberty to purchase two tickets for you, in case you want to bring a person of your trust along.”
I peered inside the envelope at two first class flight tickets, and all blood drained from my face. He wasn’t joking. I shook my head, forcing huge gulps of air in and out of my lungs.
“I’m—” My speech eluded me. I felt stupid thinking that I was the heir to an estate, let alone utter the words that burned a hole in my head.