Inherited: Baby. Nicola MarshЧитать онлайн книгу.
‘Did she have good reason?’
Riley shrugged, clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back in his director’s chair.
‘I’m concerned about Chas. He’s my nephew and I want to make sure he wants for nothing.’
Matt’s budding grin broke through. ‘Let me guess. You offered her money?’
‘Of course. What else could I do? I want to help and she basically told me where I could stick it.’
‘How well do you know Maya?’
‘Not very well; guess that’s part of the problem. I need to know more about the woman raising my nephew, to see what kind of mother she is. Ever since she hooked up with Joe, I’ve heard the rumours. Gold digger sinks her claws into rich guy, moves in and gets pregnant to hang on to him. A part of me believed them.’
‘And now?’
An image of Maya’s wan face, the fatigue lines ringing her mouth, the dark circles under her expressive eyes flashed into his mind, closely followed by the fierce way she’d bristled at his offer of money.
He hadn’t made it as Melbourne’s best stockbroker without being able to read people and, though he’d initially thought the worst of Maya, he’d bet his portfolio she’d fallen for his glib brother out of love rather than money.
‘She seems genuine enough. Time will tell.’
Matt snapped his fingers. ‘Now that’s the guy I know. Give the opposition a bit of leeway, reserve judgement, then pull the rug out from under them.’
‘It’s not like that,’ Riley said, though logic told him otherwise.
He didn’t trust easily. But Joe’s death had given him a wake up call. He travelled constantly or was chained to his desk, was most comfortable brokering deals on the Stock Exchange. He’d never had much time for family and though he’d loved Joe, he’d taken the easy option by throwing money at him. Maybe if he’d listened more, had seen that Joe had real problems, his brother would still be here.
The least he could do was be a part of Chas’s life to make up for not being there for his father.
‘Anyway, how about you tell me what you found out about Joe’s will?’
That wiped the smile off Matt’s face in record time. ‘If you’re in a bad mood, what I have to say isn’t going to improve it.’
‘Just give it to me straight,’ Riley said, assuming the worst considering Joe’s lousy money skills.
‘Your brother has nothing. In fact, he has substantial debts outstanding to several major creditors.’ Matt paused and Riley didn’t like the quick look-away. For the stand-up, look-you-straight-in-the-eye type of guy Matt was, it looked like worse was to come.
‘And?’
‘The apartment wasn’t his, he has no real estate holdings and there was no provision for Maya or Chas.’
Riley cursed, pinning Matt with a glare. ‘You’re sure about this?’
‘Positive. The only thing Joe owned was the car and that’s in Maya’s name, thank goodness.’
‘Hell.’
Okay, it was worse than he’d thought. A hundred times worse.
He’d always assumed that Joe owned the swank South Bank apartment he’d lived in and had questioned him to make sure. In typical fashion, Joe had laughed off Riley’s concerns at the time then begged another few grand to buy a new cot for Chas or a bauble for Maya. The sad thing was he now knew that the money he’d handed over for his nephew’s sake had never reached the baby.
‘What do you want me to do?’ Matt shuffled a few papers into the folio in front of him before handing it across the desk. ‘It’s all in here.’
‘Thanks,’ Riley said, taking the folder and tossing it into his in-tray, wishing he could burn the thing rather than see the irrefutable proof of his brother’s stupidity and selfishness in black and white. ‘You’ve done a great job—as usual. Why don’t you leave it with me for now, let me take a look at everything and I’ll get back to you?’
‘Sure, no probs.’ Matt drained his coffee, lobbed the cup into the bin and held out his hand. ‘I’m heading back to Sydney this afternoon so if you need me, ring me.’
‘Shall do.’ Riley shook hands with Matt and walked him to the door, the epitome of the cool, level-headed businessman everyone thought he was.
However, as soon as the door closed, Riley kicked the nearest object, which happened to be an old wooden hat stand he hated, and wondered how on earth he would break the news to Maya.
If she let him in the door, that was.
Maya gaped at the surly man wearing baggy overalls and waving a clipboard under her nose.
‘My orders are right here, lady. All the furniture in this joint is to be repossessed. Today.’
She took a steadying breath and braced herself against the door jamb, wondering if this nightmare would ever end.
‘There must be some mistake. My fiancé owns this apartment.’
‘Take it up with him,’ the guy snarled, propping the clipboard up against the skirting boards and looking over her shoulder as if sizing up the place.
‘He’s dead,’ she said, aiming for calm and hating the slight quiver in her voice.
‘Sorry for your loss, lady, but I have my orders. Everything goes. Now.’
When she hesitated, he pushed past her, followed by a slim weasel-like man who darted quick, furtive glances towards her as if she’d clobber him on the way through.
‘This is insane!’ she shouted, torn between wanting to fight for what was rightfully hers and giving them a hand to cart away every last piece of ugly furniture.
This had been Joe’s place and he’d hired a decorator, which showed in every monochromatic line and curve. Stark white and chrome had been the dominant feature of all the furniture, giving the space a cold, sterile feel which she hated.
Not that the stuff had stayed white for long when Chas started cruising the furniture. Maya had done a little internal happy dance every time he’d placed a grubby fingerprint on the frigid environment.
‘I’ll get my lawyer on to you!’ she said, the men ignoring her empty threat as they moved around the lounge room, pointing at various pieces of furniture, sticking numbers on them and ticking off their list.
At that moment Chas let out a bellow from his high chair. ‘Ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma!’
‘Hang on, sweetie,’ she said, rushing into the kitchen in time to be on the receiving end of a rather accurate throw as her angelic son lobbed a glob of cereal at her forehead.
‘Damn it,’ she said, running a wash-cloth under the tap and dabbing at the mess while Chas sent her a wide toothy grin, echoing, ‘Dam-dam-dam-dam.’
‘Cheeky boy.’
She swung him up in her arms and nuzzled him, blocking out the sounds of furniture being dragged in the other room and not caring when his sticky fingers clamped on to her neck.
So Joe hadn’t owned any of his awful furniture? Big deal. She’d grown up in a house with a saggy old sofa and a few crates for tables, with a bed sporting rusty springs that dug into her back every night for ten years. As long as they had a roof over their heads, she and Chas could make do.
‘Miss Edison?’
Her head snapped up as another man stuck his head around the door, a slick type in an ill-fitting suit who seemed at odds with the other two. ‘Who are you?’
She wasn’t usually so rude but with the Dodgy