An estate worth millions—millions Jett offered Alessandro Lucazzone.
A thought entered my mind that maybe it was all a con. Maybe Jett tricked Alessandro into thinking I was the heir, when I wasn’t. The old man might not want to sell his property for the original, more than generous offer, but the heir was more than likely to. And Jett always told me he trusted me. Maybe he’d go this far to get the estate. It was a possibility I couldn’t discard. Countless questions and theories flashed through my head, but there was little time to think them all through.
“Are you interested?” Jake asked.
Hell yeah, I was. Who wouldn’t be?
“Yes,” I said slowly.
“Very well. I’m glad to have made your acquaintance.” Jake smiled and reached out his hand to shake mine, then pushed yet more sheets across the table. I caught a glimpse of financial reports, plot measurements, and contracts. “Congratulations, Brooke. You’re the future heir of the Lucazzone Estate. Clarkson & Miles couldn’t be more delighted to represent your interests and, I hope, build a thriving and long-lasting relationship for the future.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Half an hour later, I maneuvered my old Volvo through the slow traffic. I was still hyperventilating from the shock. The more I thought about it, the more everything felt surreal. Almost like a dream. Maybe it was nothing but an error, a case of mistaken identity, a scam. Maybe Clarkson had the wrong Brooke Stewart, because inheriting a large European estate sure didn’t sound like something that would happen to me. To my surprise, the first person I wanted to share my news with was Jett. I tried to reach him on my cell, and when he didn’t pick up I left a voicemail to call me as soon as he got my message. The second person in line was Sylvie.
My head was giddy with excitement as I parked my car across the street and dashed through the lobby of our apartment complex, then up the stairs because the elevator was busy. When I entered—half-breathing, half-choking—Sylvie didn’t even look up from her comfortable seat on the couch. My heart was beating so fast, I figured it was only a matter of time until it burst. But Sylvie noticed none of it. Only when I bent over, trying to catch my breath, did she look up surprised.
“Hey. Did you run a marathon?” She sounded rough and looked the part, dressed in sweatpants and a washed out, oversized tee. Under normal circumstances I would have paid attention, but her face looked okay and her hair was its glossy self, so I figured it was nothing but post binge drinking depression or something. Whatever was going on, it couldn’t possibly beat my news.
“Guess what.” I kicked my high heels off and slumped onto the couch, minding her outstretched legs. She pushed them onto my lap and leaned back against the pillows with a bored sigh.
“You got sacked.”
“No.” Frowning, I shook my head. “Why would I be happy about that?”
Sylvie shrugged and let out another bored sigh. I made a mental note to help her find a job so she finally had some meaning in her life.
“I met with that lawyer today.” Of course that barely managed to spark a glint of recollection, as though it hadn’t been the subject of our obsessive compulsive speculation the night before. I stared at her, realizing even though she was sitting inches away from me, she wasn’t here mentally.
“Yeah?” She sounded about as interested as a five-year-old listening to a long and drawn out PhD thesis.
“Want me to switch on the TV instead?” I tickled her feet in mock annoyance, knowing she hated it.
She pulled her legs up to her chest and sat up. Her blue eyes glowered at me. “Sorry. I’m so tired and bored. This day’s been dragging on forever.” She had reached the unemployment slump. I nodded sympathetically. “I need something to do. Like—”
“Find a job?” I suggested. She returned my smile and I continued, “Or you could come with me to Italy. I know this magical place with mountains and lakes and the most amazing Tiramisu you’ve ever tasted.”
She eyed me carefully, not quite sharing my enthusiasm. “Another business trip?”
“Nope. I’m the sole heir of the Lucazzone estate.”
Her jaw dropped. She opened her mouth, and then closed it again, and a frown creased her forehead. I could almost read her thoughts in her fast changing expressions, as she tried to make sense of my statement. Eventually, she said, “The Luzzone what? You don’t mean that place across the lake?”
Of course she was stunned. And in disbelief. I had been too, but speaking out the unspeakable helped me wrap my mind around the sheer incredulity of it.