Savannah Secrets. Fiona Hood-Stewart

famous Rowena Carstairs.” He let out another cynical laugh.

      Meredith eyed him over the rim of her glasses, glad that at least he seemed to be au fait with the facts. “So you’re aware of the circumstances of your adoption?” she said, relieved.

      “Aware? I’m not bloody aware of anything,” he scoffed, eyes piercing hers. “Until the momentous revelation in your client’s letter, I only knew that Raymond and Gina Gallagher had adopted me in a moment of misguided altruism that I’m sure they afterward came to regret.”

      “I realize this must all have come as something of a shock to you—”

      “What? That some crazy old bat wanted to salvage her conscience before she moved on to a better world?”

      “Something like that. I guess—”

      “Ms. Hunter,” he said, “nothing surprises me. In my line of business I’ve seen it all. Now, do me a favor, cut the formalities and let’s get to the point, shall we?” He glanced at his watch. “I have work to do.”

      “Fine,” Meredith snapped, pushing her glasses farther up her nose. She’d rarely come across anyone quite so uncivil. “You were adopted at birth, as you know. Your birth mother, Rowena’s daughter, was Isabel Carstairs.”

      “Ah, the delightful Isabel,” he drawled, crossing his ankles and clasping his hands behind his neck. “Go on. It makes a good story. Perhaps I should pitch it to Hollywood and pick up a few bucks along the way.”

      Paying no attention, Meredith continued as though he hadn’t spoken. “As you know, Rowena, your grandmother, has named you in her will as her sole beneficiary.”

      His eyes shifted and settled on her. “Odd, isn’t it? I can’t think why she’d do a thing like that.”

      “Whatever her reasons, it’s a huge bequest.”

      “I’m not interested in her money. You can give it all to charity as far as I’m concerned.”

      Meredith tipped her glasses and stared at him over the rims. “Perhaps you’d like to know what kind of inheritance we’re talking about before making that decision.”

      “I couldn’t give a damn.” He shrugged and rotated his neck, his expression challenging.

      Meredith stifled a desire to snap closed the file and tell him to go to hell. Instead, she gripped it and controlled her temper, knowing she had Dallas to think of. Maybe if he really didn’t want the money, he could be persuaded to give his half sister a portion of the estate.

      Pushing her glasses back up her nose, she focused. “Most people wouldn’t be quite so cavalier about inheriting a hundred million dollars,” she observed casually.

      “A hundred million dollars? That’s what the old bat was worth?” he asked, sitting up straighter and letting out a long, low whistle. “Well, well. Grandma must have been one smart cookie, as you Americans would say. I hadn’t realized the estate was so huge.”

      “Something worth thinking about,” Meredith pointed out, eyeing him closely.

      “Certainly. If one was interested or needed the money,” he replied, a scathing note entering his voice. “It so happens I’m not in either of those positions.”

      “I see. I must say, I hadn’t anticipated this.”

      “No? Well, I made it plain to you over the phone. You should listen more carefully.”

      “Excuse me for asking,” Meredith said, genuinely curious, “but why aren’t you interested? You have to admit this is rather an extraordinary circumstance. Surely you must be curious to find out more.”

      “Why should I be? I make a very good living doing what I do, and I’ve already got more money than I could ever spend,” he said conversationally, studying her from his wing chair, enjoying her discomfort. “As for the so-called family connection—” he shrugged “—why should I want to know anything about Rowena Carstairs?”

      “I thought perhaps you might be eager to learn more about your past.”

      “Ha! Not in the least. I don’t need any more skeletons in my closet.”

      “Look, I’m aware that you find all this very amusing. But there are some serious issues to be dealt with. Whether you accept the money is your call, but you need to be aware of all the facts before you make a final decision. Surely you can see that? I need you to attend a meeting in the United States so that we can process the appropriate paperwork.”

      Grant snorted. “You have to be joking? First you have the gall to come wasting my time when I’ve already told you I want nothing to do with your client’s estate, then you expect me to cross the pond because of this nonsense? Look, Ms. Hunter, I haven’t got time for any meetings except those of my choosing. And for the record, I don’t consider this amusing. Quite the opposite,” he bit back icily. “She can stuff her money where the sergeant stuffed the pudding.”

      “Excuse me?”

      “An old British expression, which I believe speaks for itself.”

      Meredith remained silent, looking at him as she might a recalcitrant teenager who sat sulking and scowling into the flames.

      “Well, Rowena had a great sense of humor,” she remarked finally, “and she probably would have found that funny. As for me—” she sat up straighter “—I just keep wondering how a savvy businessman like you could be so foolish.” Gallagher sent her a sharp look, but she plowed on. “Surely you didn’t get where you are today by making final decisions without deliberating. That’s a recipe for disaster, as you well know. I can inform you of all the facts, then leave you to make up your mind.”

      Letting out a huff, Grant turned and looked at her with a new, arrested expression. His chin went up and his eyes pierced hers, as though seeing her for the first time. “You really aren’t going to leave me alone until you’ve hashed this damn thing out, are you?” he challenged.

      “No, I’m not,” she agreed, a smile twitching her lips.

      He rolled his eyes. “Well, get on with it, give me the scoop. Then you can legitimately go home and tell your boss that you did all you could to get me to accept the inheritance and that I refused. There, satisfied?” He quirked a cynical brow at her, his eyes never leaving her face.

      “As I’m the boss, that won’t be necessary,” she retorted, eyeing the documents before her. “Now, as things stand at present, you have been declared undisputed heir to the Carstairs holdings. One of the provisos of the bequest is that you attend a meeting at Rowena’s house in Miami.”

      “Which, since I’m refusing the lot, won’t be necessary,” he responded smoothly, leaning farther back in the armchair.

      “Would you mind not interrupting until I’ve finished?” she shot back.

      “Excuse me,” he said with exaggerated politeness.

      “As I was saying, there are documents that must be signed and lodged in court. Then there’s the question of your sibling.”

      “Sibling?” His hooded eyes shot up and he straightened. “What sibling?”

      “You have a half sister.”

      “Where in hell’s name did she come from?”

      “Her name is Dallas Thornton. She’s nineteen years old and is the issue of your mother’s marriage to a man named Doug Thornton.”

      “I see. Why didn’t the money go to her?”

      “That, I’m afraid, is a mystery that has been bothering me ever since Rowena’s death. There seems to be no specific reason why Dallas should have been cut out of her will, but she was,” Meredith said, lifting the file. “Here, it might be easier if you took a look for yourself.”

      Grant stayed quiet for a