Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 100604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
“Do you remember who came over with the inheritance papers?”
“No.” I shook my head.
“So, okay. I think if you can remember the name of the firm Liam worked with, I’ll have my firm reach out to them. That would help because we don’t want them coming back and suing you for validity of inheritance. We’ll make sure everything is in order. This shouldn’t be a problem. I don’t know how it even could, to be honest. People can sue for anything these days. Most claims are bullshit, but if you don’t want to prolong this—”
“No. I know. I’ll do that. It’s fine.” I nodded, and that was it. We made plans for our next meeting, which would be held at his actual place of business. I was about to head for the elevator when he asked, “What about Sia?”
“What do you mean?”
“Technically this is confidential information with attorney-client privilege, so you tell me. I don’t have to say a word to her, if you don’t want me to.”
“Oh.” I blinked. Sia hated Carol. “Maybe not, for now. I don’t want to be sued for my ex-mother-in-law’s death. Sia tends to look for pitchforks whenever she talks about Carol.”
Jake laughed. “That sounds like Sia. Okay. I think we’re set then. I’ll see you in a few days. My office will call you tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Jake.”
“Not a problem. We’ll take care of you.”
Those words—take care of you.
I hit the button for my floor and leaned back. It’d been a long time since I’d heard words like that. When the elevator stopped, I was expecting it to open on my floor, but I looked up and realized I was at the lobby instead, and Ken stood right before me. His hands were folded in front of him, and his head was slightly bowed.
He cleared his throat. “There’s been a request from our mutual acquaintance. He’d like for you to pack an overnight bag and your identification. There’s a car waiting for you outside.”
“What?”
“You’ll be driven to the airport. Mr. Cole is unable to come here, so he’d like to bring you to him instead.”
The car drove me to the airport and dropped me off in the private planes section, pulling up outside a hangar. A Ken look-alike waited for me—similar greying hair, his hands folded in front of his dark blue suit, kind eyes warming as he nodded a small smile to me.
He held his hand out, gesturing toward a set of stairs that led to a private plane. “Ms. Bowman, I imagine?”
I nodded, still dazed from what Ken had said. “Uh, yeah.”
“The plane is prepped and ready. You’ll be landing at JFK shortly, and another car will be waiting for you there.” He bowed, just briefly. “Have a wonderful trip.”
“Uh.” I was still dazed. “Thank you.”
He didn’t tell me his name, but he took my small bag and carried it to a flight attendant waiting at the bottom of the stairs. I trailed after him, and as the attendant took the bag, he gave me another professional nod.
“Safe flying, Ms. Bowman.”
Then he was gone, disappearing back inside the hangar.
The attendant waited, a similar smile on her face. She indicated for me to go ahead, and as I did, she put my bag in a compartment.
“Would you like anything in particular to drink or eat before we take off?” she asked.
I shook my head. This was all… I looked around. Private plane. I mean, I knew Cole had been on a private plane, but I didn’t know it was his, and this one must’ve been. Maybe he just chartered it? For some reason, that helped settle my nerves. That made sense.
Still, when we arrived at JFK and I got inside the waiting car, I didn’t ask the attendant or the driver. A part of me didn’t want to know. What would those details indicate about Cole? He looked too young to have all this, but then again, maybe that was what he thought about me? I wasn’t working, and I could afford to live in The Mauricio. It was obvious I had money, but he never questioned me. And why was I even wondering about this?
I was nervous.
My thoughts bounced around, and when the car headed into the city, I crossed my arms over my chest. Deep breath. Maybe a second one. I wanted to calm the knots inside, loosen them up.
When the car pulled over and the driver opened my door, I got out and craned my neck. We were outside a building similar to The Mauricio—all silver colored and made of pure glass. This one stretched much higher than the one I lived in, and it seemed friendlier. Unlike The Mauricio’s door, which was small and almost drab-looking on purpose to help with the exclusivity, this one was a circling glass door.