lawyer had given her specific instructions, so she knew she was going to the third floor, then turning right to head to suite 309. She passed well-dressed people moving swiftly across the floor. Places to go, people to see. Lorraine’s heels clicked against the marble, seeming to accentuate the rapid beating of her heart.
She glanced at the people around her. Slick business suits, pencil skirts, blazers. They looked like executives or other serious business types. Lorraine swallowed. Should she have worn a suit as opposed to the floral skirt and cotton blouse she’d chosen?
She reached the bank of elevators and stared at her reflection in the polished metal doors. Why was she doubting herself? She looked perfectly acceptable. After all, she wasn’t here to apply for a job. She was here for a meeting. It was just her nerves getting to her. Meeting with a lawyer about a will was so official.
Yesterday, she’d decided to come here. Today, she couldn’t shake the tightening in her belly at the idea of seeing Douglas’s family. Surely they would be here. Would they be angry to see a stranger at what they’d understandably expect to be a private family meeting? And would they give her a hard time regarding whatever had been left to her?
The elevator doors opened, and Lorraine’s palms started to sweat. Everyone waiting piled on, but she didn’t move.
“You coming?” a man asked. He held his arm across the elevator doors to prevent them from closing.
Lorraine straightened her spine and forced a smile. “Yes.”
She walked onto the elevator. Someone had already pressed the button for the third floor, so she stood and waited for it to ascend. Depending on how things played out in the meeting, if Douglas left her something significant and the family objected, she wouldn’t fight with them to keep whatever he’d intended for her to have. She hated family quarrels like this over material things, and she didn’t want to be a part of one. Though on a personal note, she wouldn’t mind giving Douglas’s family members a piece of her mind. Where had they been when their father, brother or whoever he was to them had been suffering and dying?
The elevator landed on the third floor. Lorraine inhaled a deep breath, then stepped off. She saw suite 309 immediately. It was the office directly to the right of the elevator. It boasted a large frosted-glass window pane and double doors. The name of the firm was inscribed in the glass to the left of the doors, and made quite the impression. It was certainly a more elaborate office than she’d expected, the kind of law office that Lorraine imagined people with substantial money would use.
She pulled open the right-side door, finding it heavy. Inside, there was a large silver desk structure to the left and chairs on the opposite wall, where three people currently sat, waiting. The receptionist, a young woman with an olive complexion and a full mane of curly black hair, smiled at her instantly.
Lorraine looked at the wall clock behind the reception desk. She had five minutes until the appointment. Perfect. She’d timed it so that she would arrive at the lawyer’s office just in time for the meeting. She didn’t want to linger in the waiting room and possibly see Douglas’s family members, who might have questions for her.
Lorraine made her way over to the reception desk. “Hello,” she said to the receptionist. “I’m here to meet with Joseph Finkel.”
“Are you Lorraine Baxter?”
“Yes, I am.”
The receptionist got to her feet. “Follow me. They’re ready for you.”
Lorraine’s stomach flip-flopped. They’re. Just how many people were in the meeting? One? Two? A small army? Again, she wondered if she should have told the lawyer that she wasn’t interested in whatever Douglas wanted to leave her.
Why are you so nervous about this? she asked herself as she followed the receptionist. But she knew why. She was fearing the worst. She’d seen far too many family members fight about assets right after a loved one had passed, and often even right in front of the dying person lying helpless on a bed.
The receptionist stopped in front of mahogany double doors at the end of the hallway. Etched into a gold plate on the door was the word Boardroom. The receptionist opened the right side of the door and stepped beyond the threshold. “Mr. Finkel, Lorraine Baxter.”
There was a middle-aged, dark-haired man at the end of the boardroom table near the door, and he immediately stood. “Thank you, Lucia,” the man said, then smiled in Lorraine’s direction.
Lucia retreated down the hallway, and Joseph walked toward Lorraine. Extending his hand, he said, “Hello, Lorraine.”
Planting a smile on her face, hoping to hide her nervousness, she approached the lawyer and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you,” she said.
“Nice to meet you, as well.”
Lorraine’s eyes wandered around the room, and she saw that there was only one other person at the table. A man sitting just to the left of the lawyer’s seat with his back facing her.
“Is this everyone?” Lorraine asked.
“Yes. It’s just the two of you.”
The man shifted in his seat to face her, and her eyes locked with his.
Lorraine reeled backward, losing her footing. Her lips parted on a silent gasp. Her stomach flinched violently, as though she’d just been sucker punched.
Oh, no... Oh, God, please...
His eyes widened, registering shock, and his face contorted. Then something else flashed on his face. Something akin to anger.
This can’t be happening! Lorraine’s heart began to pound so hard she could hear it thundering in her ears. She stood paralyzed as the lawyer released her hand.
Joseph Finkel gestured to the available chair on his right. “Please, have a seat.”
Lorraine didn’t move.
“Don’t be shy,” the lawyer teased. His tone was lighthearted, and he was clearly trying to alleviate her nerves. But he didn’t understand. He had no clue.
Lorraine tried to swallow, but her throat was suddenly dry. She began to walk across the room, unable to take her eyes off Hunter. He was holding her gaze, glaring at her.
Lorraine pulled her chair out and sat. “This is the only family?” she asked, her voice hoarse.
“You two are the only beneficiaries named in the will,” the lawyer explained. “Lorraine, this is Douglas Holland’s son, Hunter.” The lawyer looked in Hunter’s direction. “Hunter, this is Lorraine Baxter.”
Hunter merely nodded, but didn’t reach across the table to shake her hand. It was just as well. The last time he’d touched her, his hands had been giving her body immense pleasure, and his eyes had been smoky with desire. Now, he was looking at her with contempt.
Was this really happening? Or was Lorraine in the middle of a nightmare?
The very man she’d slept with—the man who’d rocked her world—was sitting across the table from her. How was this possible?
Suddenly, Hunter was standing, his large, athletic body looming over the table. Lorraine sucked in a sharp breath and
