“The bequest?”
Akira had been expecting her mother to leave the Campbell family a sizable sum, but her will had only bequeathed a hundred thousand dollars to be split between the four siblings. Mei Mori hadn’t been born rich, but at eighteen she’d had the distinct misfortune to stumble directly into the path of Hiro Mori, who, smitten, had not signed a prenup. Mei could have taken the sizable fortune she received in the divorce settlement and sat on it, but the woman had been a crafty investor and had more than doubled it over her lifetime. In light of the rest of her estate, a hundred grand was a drop in the bucket.
Then again, Akira bet Mei knew Jacob would balk at a huge sum of money. Her mother had once proudly told her Jacob was determined to make it on his own, though she had offered to help them more than once.
This information had been imparted, of course, to imply Akira had done nothing but take advantage of the silver spoon she’d been born with.
“No, not the bequest.” Most of her mother’s estate had gone to charity, with the remainder to Akira.
Akira had wanted only one thing. “We finished cataloging her possessions this week, and there’s one item missing. It was last seen seven months before her death. Six months before her death, she started refusing to see everyone except her household staff and a few select friends.” She paused for a beat. “You and your siblings were part of that small group.”
It took a few seconds for realization to dawn. He straightened, and suddenly the kitchen felt even tinier. “Are you asking if I took something from a dying woman?”
“No, of course not.” Please, Jacob would never steal. The man didn’t know how to deviate from the straight-and-narrow path. He was physically incapable of sin.
What a miserable existence.
“I was there in the capacity of friendship,” he said coldly. “She was lonely at the end. Not to manipulate her into…what, handing over her jewels?”
Lonely because her own daughter didn’t visit her.No, she refused to feel guilty about that. Her presence would have only made Mei more miserable. “I’m not implying there was a single element of coercion.” She raised her hands. “Look. I didn’t come here to fight or ogle your ass—”
Jacob’s head snapped back. “Ogle my…”
“Oh, shut up,” she retorted, out of patience. “You know very well it’s a first-class ass. What do you do, do squats all day? Never mind, don’t answer.”
“Trust me,” he said grimly, “I wasn’t planning to.”
“I came because the item looks like nothing more than a wood box. Well crafted, about a foot square. A design on the sides. No one would steal it, and it’s probably the only gift she could give you that you would take because it doesn’t look expensive.”
“You think she gave me a box?”
Akira sighed. Her feet hurt. Her head ached. She was sleep deprived and tired, and his wide, steady shoulders were right there.
It took every ounce of energy for her to continue speaking. She was unable to think anymore, perilously close to dropping her shields. “It was my grandmother’s. There is no price I wouldn’t pay to get it back.” There. She’d handed him every single ounce of bargaining power.
Jacob had stilled, and he watched her far too carefully for her peace of mind. His tone was quiet when he spoke. “Mei didn’t give me anything.”
“What about your siblings?”
“I would know. They would tell me. We’re close.”
Akira flinched from the last two words, though she knew he didn’t intend it as a dig about her lack of closeness with her own family.
She had developed a sense to recognize when people were lying to her, a skill that served her well when negotiating with men who assumed she was an empty-headed doll. Truth. It rang in every syllable of those sentences.
Defeat tasted like ashes in her mouth.
The rage she had managed to control for too many years rose inside of her. Her damned mother. Holding Hana’s box over her head like a carrot since her grandmother had died unexpectedly.Behave,and I’ll give you the box. Behave, and I’ll give you your legacy.
You should have behaved.
Well, she hadn’t. And the hope she’d had, that finally, finally she could recover it, was dashed, because there was no place left to look.
It was gone.
If she opened her mouth, she would cry or wail, and Akira Mori did not break down. Not ever.
She inclined her head and carefully placed her half-full coffee mug on the counter. She managed to make it to the exit, barely registering Jacob’s presence behind her until a heavy palm shut the door she had opened a crack. “Akira. Are you okay?”
