“It’s Lucazzone,” I corrected her. “The attorney kept calling to arrange a meeting and discuss the will’s content. The old man, Alessandro Lucazzone, wants to meet me. Jake’s secretary’s booked two flight tickets for tomorrow night.” I jumped up and grabbed Sylvie in a hug. “We’re going to Bellagio. How about that?”
Her expression didn’t quite catch on to my enthusiasm. “Are you sure you’re not being scammed? You know, like getting an email telling you you’ve won or inherited a million, and then you’re supposed to enter your bank details.”
I shook my head, ignoring the urge to groan. “It’s a legitimate law firm. Jake never asked for my bank details. And may I remind you he knew my name, address and so forth prior to contacting me?”
From the glint in her eyes, I could she was having a hard time believing it. To be honest, so was I.
“You’re right,” Sylvie said. “But just to be on the safe side, let’s ask Doctor Google.”
She booted up her laptop, and I entered Clarkson & Miles in the search engine. After less than a second, a picture of Jake popped up along with his company’s details. A few minutes later, I found some mention of the Lucazzone Estate and that Clarkson & Miles had been the appointed law firm for the last five years. Everything looked legitimate.
“That’s him and that’s the estate,” I pointed at the screen and inched forward to regard the tiny picture of Alessandro Lucazzone and his deceased wife. Even though it was blurred, and probably old, I could make out a few details about her, like her stubborn jaw and the way her brows arched in a slight V shape, just like my father’s.
Maybe I was beginning to see similarities where there were none. Or maybe half of my family descended from Italy and no one ever bothered to tell me.
Sylvie leaned over me and sucked in a sharp breath. “Jesus, Brooke. You’re rich!”
***
“Didn’t Jett take you to that place?” Sylvie asked.
“Bellagio?”
She nodded. Motioning her to wait, I poured two cups of café latte, grabbed the cookie box, and returned to the sofa, where Sylvie sat cross-legged, eagerly awaiting my full account. I placed the cups on the couch table and passed her a cookie dipped in milk chocolate—my absolute favorite.
“There better be lots of hiking opportunities, because I’ll need lots of it after this.” She held up a cookie before biting off half, and moaned with ecstasy. I laughed because it was our inside joke. Sylvie could eat like a horse and wouldn’t gain a pound.
“So, did he take you to the same place?” Sylvie asked. The cold undertone in her voice surprised me and I remembered what she said about him moving in a different society.
“Well, sort of. We stayed on the other side of the lake.”
“But it’s still the same place, isn’t it?” she insisted.
Where the hell was she going with it? I scanned her face for any clues. Her expression was impassive, all except for the strange glint in her eyes. I swallowed the half-chewed cookie inside my mouth, suddenly oblivious to the buttery taste of the dough dipped in the creamiest chocolate twenty dollars could buy. She took my lack of response as an affirmative.
“Yes,” I said. As though I was confirming her suspicions, she nodded. “Why are you asking?”
“That’s quite the coincidence.”
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
She brushed her long hair back and moistened her lips as her blue gaze bore into me. “I know you’re still under the influence of his big dick and the dreamy stuff it did to you, but you need to switch on your brain. And pronto.” She raised her hand to stop the angry protest on my lips. “I’m not suggesting anything. But you’ve got to admit it’s a big world and he took you to the one place you’d inherit. Do you really think that’s a coincidence?”
A cold shudder ran down my spine. She didn’t even know half of it. How could I possibly tell her the rest and not feel completely stupid? “Actually, it’s the same estate he’s been trying to buy.” And the same estate I, as the heir, probably would have given to him, just to see him happy—had he just asked. But he didn’t. Which led me to my next concern. Did he use me? Was I na?ve to believe what we had was real?
We stared at each other for a few moments. The magnitude of our words hung heavy in the air.
“Maybe it’s a coincidence,” Sylvie said, breaking the silence. “Maybe he didn’t even know there were relatives.”
According to Jett’s file, the company had watched Alessandro Lucazzone for ten years. Was it really possible the private detective never found out about a possible heir? Possible. And then he hired me? Unlikely. Coincidence?
“I don’t know. This is fucked up.”
“When was the will signed?” Sylvie asked.
I grabbed the copy of the will Jake left me and scanned it once more until I found the date.