Page 29 of Bit's Bliss
My eyes scrunched when he turned the papers around so I could see it. “This says it was notarized.”
“Bank policy requires for it to be.”
I picked the paper up to take a closer look. “Wouldn’t a notary be required to sign as well?” I asked, pointing to the stamp.
He held out his hand, and I returned the document. “This is odd. That page appears to be missing. I can check the record book, but based on this date, it could’ve been one of two people, neither of whom still work for the bank.”
“Were they fired for committing fraud?”
His expression darkened. “I’m confident every procedure was executed as required, Miss Warwick.”
“And yet the notary’s signature is missing.”
“The page is missing, but your signature is not.”
I took another look at it. It was close but not exact. “What type of identification would this have required?”
“We require it to be government issued.”
Which meant, if the notary had, in fact, checked it, my father had either sneaked my driver’s license frommy wallet or used my passport. The latter would’ve been easier, given I kept it in the family safe. Still, shouldn’t I have been required to be present?
“I need some time to think this over.”
“If the demand isn’t settled by the close of business, foreclosure will commence,” he responded. “We’ve extended the grace period to bring the account current several times.”
I had the letter I’d found on my father’s desk with me and retrieved it from the envelope. It did say that it was the final notice. “I’ll contact you within a couple of hours,” I said, standing. “May I have a copy of the loan documents, please?”
“Of course. It will take a few minutes.”
“I’m not leaving without it.”
When he escorted me out of his office, I joined Trevino in the waiting area. Rather than ask about the meeting, he took my hand in his and pulled me down to sit in the chair next to him.
“I’m waiting for copies of some of the documents. Then, if you don’t mind, I’d like to discuss my options with you.”
Everything inside me felt like it was melting when he brought my hand to his lips and kissed my palm. “Happy to, little dove.” His phone vibrated, and he swiped the screen, looked at it for a second, then stuck it in his pocket.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. I need to make a call, though.”
“Go ahead. I’ll wait here.”
He studied me, stood, and went outside. I was so grateful for Trevino’s support, and I certainly liked being with him, but how in the world had I gotten here? I leaned against the chair and folded my arms.
It was on a lark that I’d responded to a job posting for an event planner—something I had no experience doing outside of the things we’d hosted at our family’s winery. That was in the middle of July, and three days later, Trevino had hired me to work for him at Los Caballeros.
Eight days ago, I was supposed to marry another man. Less than two days ago, I bid on a date with a different guy—one I would’ve paid twenty-five thousand dollars for if Trevino hadn’t covered it for me. And a few short hours ago, I’d had the most incredible orgasm of my life brought on by a man who wanted me to call him sir and threatened to punish me if I saidanything negative about myself. Somehow, I doubted that would be the only thing I’d face “consequences” for doing.
I also found out my father had sold our family business, which I was the majority owner of. That meant he’d probably forged my signature in the same way he had on the house loan that was currently in default.
Not to mention that he hadn’t returned home after leaving yesterday afternoon while in the midst of what sounded like a heated argument. And despite all the times I’d called and the number of messages I’d left, he still hadn’t responded. Where in the hell had he gone? Not just last night, but also after the Winemakers’ Ball? The logical explanation was he was seeing another woman and he was with her. But then, why would he have brought Nancy as his date?
On top of everything going on with my dad, my former fiancé had showed up at my house late at night, repeatedly calling from the gate phone. I assumed he wanted me to let him in, but why?
I suppose it spoke volumes about the kind of life I’d led so far that it was the one time I’d felt truly afraid.
“Miss Warwick?”
