Page 2 of Reckless Love

“Holy shit,” I breathed, silently shooting up an apologetic prayer to Nonna, but that was a lot of zeroes. “This is mine?”

For the first time in years, hope swelled in my chest. With this kind of money, I wouldn’t lose everything. I could use this money to fund Hope’s Heart—the charity my mother had started before her death.

After an emergency hysterectomy following my birth, my parents had wanted more children and decided to adopt. During the adoption process, they’d learned about children with congenital, sometimes fatal, heart defects that often went ignored by families who wanted healthy children.

My parents had adopted Hope when I was four and she was one. Sadly, Hope passed away before her third birthday, and I barely remembered my little sister, but my mother had made it her mission to ensure children like Hope would not be forgotten.

Once Mom had passed away, Nonna had taken over the reins of the charity, and now it was my turn. But I wasn’t sure how much help I could be… until now.

I couldn’t save Papa’s jewelry business, but with the money I’d get from selling it, I could protect Mom and Nonna’s legacy.

“Alessia, wait,” Mr. Devane cautioned, the warning note in his tone my first indicator that things weren’t right.

I lifted my head, meeting his gaze. “What?”

He tugged at the starched white collar of his dress shirt. “That inheritance comes with a few conditions.”

“Like?” I splayed my hands out on the shiny wood of the mahogany table. Whatever hoops I had to jump through, I’d do it.

Losing Ice by Winter was devastating enough, but losing Hope’s Heart had almost sent me over the edge. As it was, I’d already given up everything I had to try and keep Papa’s business.

I’d sold our five-thousand square foot New York City apartment overlooking Central Park. I’d sold their summer house in the Hamptons. Next had been the majority of Nonna’s personal jewelry collection, with the exception of a few pieces I’d cut my arms off before selling.

In less than a year, I’d gone from a woman with the city at her feet to a fifth floor walk-up in a sketchy part of the Bronx because it was all I could afford after the funerals and trying to get enough equity to dig out of Papa’s mistakes.

It tacked on an extra hour to my daily commute to the entry level receptionist job I’d landed with that stellar fine arts degree. The pay covered my rent and food, even if it also came with a boss that liked to look down my top every chance he got.

But it was a job, and at least I was able to stay in the city I loved.

Mr. Devane drummed his fingers on the table. “Sia, I’ve known your grandparents since we were in our thirties. You grandfather designed the rings my wife and I wear to this day.” He turned the yellow gold band on his finger as he spoke. “After your parents’ passing, your grandparents wanted to be certain you had everything you needed in the event of their passing.”

My gaze flitted to the sum again. “I think this is more than enough.”

“Yes, but your grandparents also wanted to be certain you were mature enough to handle the responsibility of such a large amount of money, so they placed stipulations on when you are able to access it.” He licked his lips, his bushy white handlebar mustache twitching as his gaze slid to the wall of windows overlooking Third Avenue.

“What aren’t you saying?” I finally asked.

Puffing out a breath, he steepled his fingers and met my gaze. “Your inheritance has the same stipulations your father’s did—you must either be thirty years of age or married to gain access to your trust.”

It was like my brain factory reset and started rebooting anew. Several long moments passed as the words tumbled around in my head, my mind struggling to attach meaning to them. “But I’m twenty-three.”

Mr. Devane grimaced. “I am aware.”

That hope that had been swelling like a balloon popped instantly. “So, I have to wait seven years.”

“Or get married,” he repeated.

I shot him an incredulous look. “Marry who?” My last boyfriend had been in college and lasted all of four dates before he got pissed I wouldn’t have sex with him and stormed off, leaving me in the middle of a party. When I’d left to catch my Uber, I’d spotted him with a blonde plastered against the wall. His hand had been up her shirt, and hers had been down the front of his pants.

After that, I strongly considered applying as a nun. At least that would’ve made Nonna’s Catholic-devoted soul happy.

Mr. Devane winced. “I’m truly sorry, Sia. I wish there was something I could do…”

“You’re a lawyer,” I blurted out. “Can’t you find a loophole?”

He shook his head. “The rules are quite simple, and also quite unbreakable.”

“But if I don’t have this money, I’ll lose Hope,” I mumbled, my gaze once again returning to the sum that would solve all my problems.

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