Page 7 of One More Kiss

“Is there anything specific you would like to know, bunny?” Sam asked, frowning at his screen.

“Just tell me if anything sticks out to you.”

“Are you going to tell me why?”

Twisting the cap back on the bottle, I leaned back against the sofa, my eyes closing in an attempt to block out the pain of betrayal. “I need to confirm a few things.”

“Such as?”

“If my father were to divulge details of the will, would he risk losing anything?” It was not the most important issue. I didn’t care one way or another. But if it was true, then that would mean the rest was as well. And I wanted to hide from it for a little longer.

More clicking from Sam, followed by a grunt. “Yes. If he speaks about the particulars of Howard’s estate to anyone other than Nash or the lawyers specifically listed here, he will forfeit half the sum of his bequest.”

Damn it.

Tears pricked my eyes. “Okay.”

He continued to read, and I knew the moment he realized why I was upset, sending my queasiness to another level. A hiss escaped through his teeth. “Sonofabitch!”

Scrubbing at the tears that spilled down my cheeks, I nodded. “Yeah.”

Brown eyes lasered into me from across the office. “Who told you about this, Delilah?”

“No one told me. I overheard a conversation that was definitely not meant for my ears and decided to get confirmation of the facts.” Because I was reasonable like that. Facts over emotions was what Grandpa Howie would have respected. Even if my heart was nothing but a pile of rubble in my chest. “Give it to me straight, Sam. Am I going to lose everything?”

Muttering curses, Sam switched his gaze back to the computer. “So, at first glance, your father was given the stipulation of losing half his bequest—which was a hefty number, by the way—if he spoke about even the smallest detail of the will. But Nash doesn’t have that same requirement. He could have told you about any of this at any time. But I’m guessing he chose not to?”

Several more tears spilled free. “Yup.”

“Bastard.” Sam didn’t have to tell me his opinion of Nash. They’d disliked each other from day one. After he’d had to hide his own relationship with Stef for so long, Nash making me feel like a dirty secret only pissed him off more.

He clicked a few keys. “The will itself is straightforward. If you aren’t married to Nash by your twenty-first birthday, the Royal shares of the Royal Phoenix become Nash’s. There are no if, ands, or buts about that. From the looks of it, my father drew this damn thing up, so yes, it’s airtight. You would be hard-pressed to fight it, but that doesn’t mean you can’t. Whatever you want, bunny. I’ll stand with you in this.”

I pressed the water bottle to the back of my neck, hoping to alleviate some of the nausea. If it weren’t for the sick pit in my stomach, though, I would have felt numb.

“Do I at least get to keep my job?” I voiced the only concern that needed to be addressed. It hurt that my grandfather had been so cavalier with my birthright. Even more so that Nash was just going to steal it from me. It wasn’t about the money or the hotel, though.

The Royal Phoenix was my home, the only one I’d ever known.

Sam shrugged. “There’s nothing that would suggest otherwise, unless Nash fires you.”

At this point, I wouldn’t put it past him. Obviously, he hadn’t planned on telling me about any of this. Who knew what he was going to do after my birthday?

Which meant I had a lot of things to figure out.

Like where my baby and I were going to live.

I had plenty of money in my bank account. Not only had I not spent much of the salary I’d been earning since I was sixteen, but I’d gotten my trust fund when I turned eighteen. It wasn’t as if I was going to be homeless. I could find a house or an apartment. Something.

But it was hard to think about all that when everything inside me was screaming in agony from the heartbreak of discovering the man I loved had betrayed me.

CHAPTER FIVE

nash

Unlocking the door to Lily’s suite, I raked a hand through my hair in frustration. It was a toss-up of who pissed me off more. Joseph, the incompetent bastard who couldn’t even do something as simple as keeping his mouth shut. Or Nicole, the whoring leech who had been making my life miserable from the day I met her.

While I was working at the hotel in LA, she’d warmed my bed for a few weeks. Nicole might have been good on her back—and her knees—but I hadn’t been tempted to take it further than that. Hell, she hadn’t even been the last woman I had sex with before I’d left Los Angeles. The night I’d broken things off with her, she’d made me angry, and I’d thrown it at her that I knew who my future belonged to. It had been written in stone from her birth.

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