Page 49 of Love Me

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“Diego,thank you for meeting with me,” Donovan immediately starts as soon as I reach the table where he’s seated.

I don’t bother to shake the hand he holds out. I sit. “The timer is on.” I tap my watch.

He gives me a contrite look and nods. “I won’t take up much of your time.”

“You’ve already taken up too much of it.”

With that, he dives right in. “The reading of your fa– Gabriel’s will was last week. We were able to hold it in spite of the fact that you weren’t present as per his wishes.”

I grunt and fold my arms across my chest. Donovan looks at me with hesitation. I don’t bother telling him I know the only reason Gabriel Garcia tried to insist that I be present at the reading of his will is to try to maintain some sick sort of power over me.

The bastard was like that. He loved lording control over people—my mother, me, his other family. But fuck him. My not attending was my final middle finger to him. Not that he deserved even that amount of acknowledgment.

“He left you an inheritance.”

“I don’t want it,” my reply is instant. “Give it to his actual children.” I stand to leave.

Donovan rises from his seat as well. “It’s not that simple, Diego. This inheritance comes with stipulations.”

A chuckle passes my lips, but it’s tinged with malice. “Of course there is. The son of a bitch was all about stipulations and contingencies and shit.” After all, he was a lawyer himself. “I don’t give a shit about him or his inheritance. He can rot in hell.”

Donovan flinches.

“Your five minutes are up.” I head for the door, but he follows.

“Please, Diego, hear me out?”

Irritated, I stop short just outside of the door of the coffee shop. “What?”

“Gabriel knew you wouldn’t want anything to do with him or this inheritance.”

“Yet, he still made sure to include me.” Sick bastard obviously didn’t know how to leave well enough alone.

“Yes, well,” Donovan continues, “either way the money is yours. Don’t you want to know how much it is?”

“No.”

“I’m sure you’re already well off, given your adopted family’s considerable wealth.”

“Do not bring up my family,” I tell him through gritted teeth.

His eyes bulge, and he takes a reasonable step back. “Still, the money is yours and I cannot allow you to give it away as per the instructions of the will. Especially not to your broth—” He cuts off when I glare at him.

“To Gabriel’s other two sons. He insisted that they not receive a penny more than he granted them in his will. Which, admittedly, is less than your inheritance.”

I don’t have time to figure out Garcia’s mind games. He’s dead. That’s all that matters in my book.

“Then burn it,” I say and start to stride off.

“Diego, please,” Donovan pleads. “There is a stipulation that after one year you can give the money away if you decide to. But you must hold onto it for one year. Still, under no circumstance is the money to go to Gabriel’s other children, however.”

“I’m going to say this one more fucking time. Because obviously, I spoke too fast for you to hear me the first time. I don’t give a flying fuck about Gabriel Garcia, his money, or his other family. The bastard never did anything out of the kindness of his heart for me when he was alive. I don’t expect anything from him now.

“Get the hell out of my way,” I seethe.

I brush past Donovan, almost knocking him over. All I can see is red. I hate that even from the grave, that son of a bitch still has some ability to make me this angry. He hasn’t been a significant part of my life for two decades, and yet, the mention of his name still brings back the ways in which his words used to taunt me.

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